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WHEELING.  W.VA. 


THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA 


Hntbon\>  lbope'0  IRomances 

•Rupert  of  t>ent3au. 

From  the  Memoirs  of  Fritz  von  Tarlen- 
heim.  (Sequel  to  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.) 
With  eight  full-page  illustrations  by 
CHARLES  DANA  GIBSON.  i2mo.  $1.50. 

A  NEW  ILLUSTRATED  EDITION  OF 

Ube  prisoner  of  £enoa. 

With  five  full-page  illustrations  by  C.  D. 
GIBSON,  and  a  view  and  plan  of  the  castle 
by  HOWARD  INCE.  i2mo.  $1.50. 

"  A  glorious  story.  .  .  .  Perhaps  not  the  least  among  its 
many  good  qualities  is  the  fact  that  its  chivalry  is  of  the 
nineteenth,  not  of  the  sixteenth,  century;  that  it  is  a  tale 
of  brave  men  and  true,  and  of  a  fair  woman  of  to-day. 
The  Englishman  who  saves  the  king  ...  is  as  interesting 
a  knight  as  was  Bayard.  .  .  .  The  story  holds  the  reader's 
attention  from  first  to  last."—  Critic. 

In  the  Buckram  Series.  With  frontispieces  by 
Jtackham,  Russell,  and  Wechsler.  i8mo. 
75<r.  each. 

ZCbe  Indiscretion  of  tbe  Ducbess. 

lit  A  Impression. 

"Told  with  an  old-time  air  of  romance  that  gives  the 
fascination  of  an  earlier  day  ;  an  air  of  good  faith,  almost  of 
religious  chivalry,  gives  reality  to  its  extravagance.  .  .  . 
Marks  Mr.  Hope  as  a  wit,  if  he  were  not  a  romancer."— 
Nation. 

B    /Ran   Of   /Ibarft.  <)tA  Impression. 

"  More  plentifully  charged  with  humor,  and  the  plot  is 
every  whit  as  original  as  that  of  Zenda.  .  .  .  The  whole 
game  of  playing  at  revolution  is  pictured  with  such  near- 
ness and  intimacy  of  view  that  the  wildest  things  happen 
as  though  they  were  every-day  occurrences.  .  .  .  The 
charmingly  wicked  Christina  is  equal  to  anything  that  Mr. 
Hope  hns  done,  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  always 
piquant  Dolly."—  Life. 


Dialogues.  gth  Impression. 

"  Characterized  by  a  delicious  drollery;  .  .  .  beneath  the 
surface  play  of  words  lies  a  tragi-cotnedy  of  life.  .  .  . 
There  is  infinite  suggestion  in  every  line."—  Boston  Tran- 
script. 

H  Cbaiige  Of  Bir.  <}th  Impression. 

With  portrait  and  notice  of  the  author. 

"  A  highly  clever  performance,  with  little  touches  that 
recall  both  Balzac  and  Meredith."  —  New  York  Times. 

Sport   "Regal.  $th  Impression. 

HENRY  HOLT  &  CO., 


THE   PRISONER  OF  ZENDA 


Being  the  History  of  Three  Months  in  the 
Life  of  an  English  Gentleman 


BY 


ANTHONY  HOPE 


lUitb  five  full*pa<ic  flllustrations 

BY 

CHARLES  DANA  GIBSON 

And  a  view  and  flan  of  the  castle  of  Zenda 
BY  HOWARD  INCB 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY   HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1898 


COPYRIGHT,  1894,  1898, 

BY 
HENRY   HOLT  &  CO. 


THE   MERSHON   COMPANY    PRESS, 
RAHWAY,   N.   J. 


Stack 
Annex 

PR 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE    RASSENDYLLS— WITH    A    WORD    ON 

THE  ELPHBERGS i 

II.  CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR...  13 

III.  A  MERRY  EVENING  WITH  A  DISTANT  REL- 

ATIVE   27 

IV.  THE  KING  KEEPS  His  APPOINTMENT 43 

V.  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY —  56 

VI.     THE  SECRET  OF  A  CELLAR 70 

VII.    His  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN   STRELSAU 83 

VIII.  A  FAIR  COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER —  96 

IX.    A  NEW  USE  FOR  A  TEA   TABLE 112 

X.    A  GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A  VILLAIN 128 

XI.    HUNTING  A  VERY  BIG  BOAR 143 

XII.  I  RECEIVE  A  VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK..  158 

XIII.  AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER —  172 

XIV.  A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE  THE  CASTLE 186 

XV.     I  TALK  WITH  A   TEMPTER 199 

XVI.    A  DESPERATE  PLAN 213 

XVII.  YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS..  227 

XVIII.    THE  FORCING  OF  THE  TRAP 240 

XIX.    FACE  TO  FACE  IN  THE  FOREST 252 

XX.    THE  PRISONER  AND  THE  KING 265 

XXI.     IF  LOVE  WERE  ALL  ! 280 

XXII.    PRESENT,  PAST— AND  FUTURE? 294 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

THE  CASTLE  OF  ZENDA Frontispiece 

PLAN  OF  THE  CASTLE  OF  ZENDA 28 

"  IF  HE'S  RED  HE'S  RIGHT  !" 61 

"I  HANDED  FLAVIA  DOWN  THE  BROAD  MARBLE  STAIRS".  139 

"  THE  FELLOW'S  STORY  WAS  RUDELY  TOLD  " 181 

"  COME  ON  !  COME  ON,  MAN  ! " 248 

"  IT  WAS  ALWAYS  You,  NEVER  THE  KING  ! " 286 


vil 


THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   RASSENDYLLS WITH   A   WORD    ON   THE   ELPH- 

BERGS. 

"  I  WONDER  when  in  the  world  you're  going  to 
do  anything,  Rudolf?  "  said  my  brother's  wife. 

"  My  dear  Rose,"  I  answered,  laying  down  my 
egg-spoon,  "  why  in  the  world  should  I  do  any- 
thing? My  position  is  a  comfortable  one.  I  have 
an  income  nearly  sufficient  for  my  wants  (no  one's 
income  is  ever  quite  sufficient,  you  know).  I  enjoy 
an  enviable  social  position:  I  am  brother  to  Lord 
Burlesdon,  and  brother-in-law  to  that  most  charm- 
ing lady  his  countess.  Behold,  it  is  enough!  " 

:<  You  are  nine-and-twenty,"  she  observed,  "  and 
you've  clone  nothing  but " 

"  Knock  about?  It  is  true.  Our  family  doesn't 
need  to  do  things." 

This  remark  of  mine  rather  annoyed  Rose,  for 


2  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

everybody  knows  (and  therefore  there  can  be  no 
harm  in  referring  to  the  fact)  that,  pretty  and  ac- 
complished as  she  herself  is,  her  family  is  hardly  of 
the  same  standing  as  the  Rassendylls.  Besides  her 
attractions,  she  possessed  a  large  fortune,  and  my 
brother  Robert  was  wise  enough  not  to  mind  about 
her  ancestry.  Ancestry  is,  in  fact,  a  matter  con- 
cerning which  the  next  observation  of  Rose's  has 
some  truth. 

"  Good  families  are  generally  worse  than  any 
others,"  she  said. 

Upon  this  I  stroked  my  hair:  I  knew  quite  well 
what  she  meant. 

"  I'm  so  glad  Robert's  is  black!  "  she  cried. 

At  this  moment  Robert  (who  rises  at  seven  and 
works  before  breakfast)  came  in.  He  glanced  at 
his  wife:  her  cheek  was  slightly  flushed;  he  patted  it 
caressingly. 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  dear?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  objects  to  my  doing  nothing  and  having 
red  hair,"  said  I  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  Oh!  of  course  he  can't  help  his  hair,"  admitted 

* 
Rose. 


THE  RASSENDYLLS.  3 

(f  It  generally  crops  out  once  in  a  generation," 
said  my  brother.  "  So  does  the  nose.  Rudolf  has 
got  them  both." 

"  I  wish  they  didn't  crop  out,"  said  Rose,  still 
flushed. 

"  I  rather  like  them  myself,"  said  I,  and,  rising, 
I  bowed  to  the  portrait  of  Countess  Amelia. 

My  brother's  wife  uttered  an  exclamation  of  im- 
patience. 

"  I  wish  you'd  take  that  picture  away,  Robert," 
said  she. 

"  My  dear!  "  he.  cried. 

"  Good  Heavens!  "  I  added. 

"  Then  it  might  be  forgotten,"  she  continued. 

"  Hardly — with  Rudolf  about,"  said  Robert, 
shaking  his  head. 

"  Why  should  it  be  forgotten?  "  I  asked. 

"  Rudolf!  "  exclaimed  my  brother's  wife,  blush- 
ing very  prettily. 

I  laughed,  and  went  on  with  my  egg.  At  least 
I  had  shelved  the  question  of  what  (if  anything)  I 
ought  to  do.  And  by  way  of  closing  the  discus- 
sion— and  also,  I  must  admit,  of  exasperating  my 


4  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

strict     little     sister-in-law    a    trifle     more — I  ob- 
served : 

"  I  rather  like  being  an  Elphberg  myself." 
When  I  read  a  story  I  skip  the  explanations;  yet 
the  moment  I  begin  to  write  one  I  find  that  I  must 
have  an  explanation.  For  it  is  manifest  that  I 
must  explain  why  my  sister-in-law  was  vexed  with 
my  nose  and  hair,  and  why  I  ventured  to  call  my- 
self an  Elphberg.  For,  eminent  as,  I  must  protest, 
the  Rassendylls  have  been  for  many  generations, 
yet  participation  in  their  blood  of  course  does  not, 
at  first  sight,  justify  the  boast  of  a  connection  with 
the  grander  stock  of  the  Elphbergs  or  a  claim  to  be 
one  of  that  royal  house.  For  what  relationship  is 
there  between  Ruritania  and  Burlesdon,  between 
the  palace  at  Strelsau  or  the  castle  of  Zenda  and 
No.  305  Park  Lane,  W.? 

Well,  then — and  I  must  premise  that  I  am  going, 
perforce,  to  rake  up  the  very  scandal  which  my 
dear  Lady  Burlesdon  wishes  forgotten — in  the  year 
1733,  George  II.  sitting  then  on  the  throne,  peace 
reigning  for  the  moment,  and  the  king  and  the 
Prince  of  Wales  being  not  yet  at  loggerheads,  there 


THE  R/tSSENDYLLS.  5 

came  on  a  visit  to  the  English  court  a  certain 
prince,  who  was  afterward  known  to  history  as 
Rudolf  the  Third  of  Ruritania.  The  prince  was  a 
tall,  handsome  young  fellow,  marked  (maybe 
marred,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say)  by  a  somewhat  un- 
usually long,  sharp,  and  straight  nose,  and  a  mass 
of  dark-red  hair — in  fact,  the  nose  and  the  hair 
which  have  stamped  the  Elphbergs  time  out  of 
mind.  He  stayed  some  months  in  England,  where 
he  was  most  courteously  received;  yet  in  the  end 
he  left  rather  under  a  cloud.  For  he  fought  a  duel 
(it  was  considered  highly  well  bred  of  him  to  waive 
all  question  of  his  rank)  with  a  nobleman,  well 
known  in  the  society  of  the  day,  not  only  for  his 
own  merits,  but  as  the  husband  of  a  very  beautiful 
wife.  In  that  duel  Prince  Rudolf  received  a  severe 
wound,  and  recovering  therefrom,  was  adroitly 
smuggled  off  by  the  Ruritanian  ambassador,  who 
had  found  him  a  pretty  handful.  The  nobleman 
was  not  wounded  in  the  duel ;  but  the  morning  be- 
ing raw  and  damp  on  the  occasion  of  the  meeting, 
he  contracted  a  severe  chill,  and  failing  to  throw  it 
off,  he  died  some  six  months  after  the  departure 


6  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/I. 

of  Prince  Rudolf,  without  having  found  leisure  to 
adjust  his  relations  with  his  wife — who  after  an- 
other two  months  bore  an  heir  to  the  title  and 
estates  of  the  family  of  Burlesdon.  This  iady  was 
the  Countess  Amelia,  whose  picture  my  sister-in- 
law  wished  to  remove  from  the  drawing  room  in 
Park  Lane;  and  her  husband  was  James,  fifth  Earl 
of  Burlesdon  and  twenty-second  Baron  Rassendyll, 
both  in  the  peerage  of  England,  and  a  Knight  of 
the  Garter.  As  for  Rudolf,  he  went  back  to  Ruri- 
tania,  married  a  wife,  and  ascended  the  throne, 
whereon  his  progeny  in  the  direct  line  have  sat 
from  then  till  this  very  hour — with  one  short  in- 
terval. And,  finally,  if  you  walk  through  the  pic- 
ture galleries  at  Burlesdon,  among  the  fifty  por- 
traits or  so  of  the  last  century  and  a  half  you  will 
find  five  or  six,  including  that  of  the  sixth  earl,  dis- 
tinguished by  long,  sharp,  straight  noses  and  a 
quantity  of  dark-red  hair;  these  five  or  six  have 
also  blue  eyes,  whereas  among  the  Rassendylls 
dark  eyes  are  the  commoner. 

That  is  the  explanation,  and  I  am  glad  to  have 
finished  it:  the  blemishes  on  honorable  lineage  are 


THE  RASSENDYLLS.  1 

a  delicate  subject,  and  certainly  this  heredity  we 
hear  so  much  about  is  the  finest  scandalmonger  in 
the  world;  it  laughs  at  discretion,  and  writes 
strange  entries  between  the  lines  of  the  "  Peer- 
age." 

It  will  be  observed  that  my  sister-in-law,  with  a 
want  of  logic  that  must  have  been  peculiar  to  her- 
self (since  we  are  no  longer  allowed  to  lay  it  to  the 
charge  of  her  sex),  treated  my  complexion  almost 
as  an  offense  for  which  I  was  responsible,  hasten- 
ing to  assume  from  that  external  sign  inward  quali- 
ties of  which  I  protest  my  entire  innocence;  and 
this  unjust  inference  she  sought  to  buttress  by 
pointing  to  the  uselessness  of  the  life  I  had  led. 
Well,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  had  picked  up  a  good  deal 
of  pleasure  and  a  good  deal  of  knowledge.  I  had 
been  to  a  German  school  and  a  German  university, 
and  spoke  German  as  readily  and  perfectly  as  Eng- 
lish; I  was  thoroughly  at  home  in  French;  I  had  a 
smattering  of  Italian,  and  enough  Spanish  to  swear 
by.  I  was,  I  believe,  a  strong,  though  hardly  a 
fine,  swordsman  and  a  good  shot.  I  could  ride 
anything  that  had  a  back  to  sit  on;  and  my  head 


8  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/I. 

was  as  cool  a  one  as  you  could  find,  for  all  its  flam- 
ing cover.  If  you  say  that  I  ought  to  have  spent 
my  time  in  useful  labor  I  am  out  of  court  and  have 
nothing  to  say,  save  that  my  parents  had  no  busi- 
ness to  leave  me  two  thousand  pounds  a  year  and  a 
roving  disposition. 

"  The  difference  between  you  and  Robert,"  said 
my  sister-in-law,  who  often  (bless  her!)  speaks  on  a 
platform,  and  oftener  still  as  if  she  were  on  one, 
"  is  that  he  recognizes  the  duties  of  his  position, 
and  you  only  see  the  opportunities  of  yours." 

"  To  a  man  of  spirit,  my  dear  Rose,"  I  answered, 
"  opportunities  are  duties." 

"Nonsense!"  said  she,  tossing  her  head;  and 
after  a  moment  she  went  on:  "  Now  here's  Sir 
Jacob  Borrodaile  offering  you  exactly  what  you 
might  be  equal  to." 

"  A  thousand  thanks!  "  I  murmured. 

"  He's  to  have  an  embassy  in  six  months,  and 
Robert  says  he  is  sure  that  he'll  take  you  as  an 
attache.  Do  take  it,  Rudolf — to  please  me." 

Now  when  my  sister-in-law  puts  the  matter  in 
that  way,  wrinkling  her  pretty  brows,  twisting  her 


THE  RASSENDYLLS.  9 

little  hands,  and  growing  wistful  in  the  eyes,  all  on 
account  of  an  idle  scamp  like  myself,  for  whom  she 
has  no  natural  responsibility,  I  am  visited  with 
compunction.  Moreover,  I  thought  it  possible  that 
I  could  pass  the  time  in  the  position  suggested  with 
some  tolerable  amusement.  Therefore  I  said: 

"  My  dear  sister,  if  in  six  months'  time  no  unfore- 
seen obstacle  has  arisen,  and  Sir  Jacob  invites  me, 
hang  me  if  I  don't  go  with  Sir  Jacob!  " 

"  O  Rudolf,  how  good  of  you!     I  am  glad!  " 

"  Where's  he  going  to?  " 

"  He  doesn't  know  yet;  but  it's  sure  to  be  a  good 
embassy." 

"  Madame,"  said  I,  "  for  your  sake  I'll  go  if  it's 
no  more  than  a  beggarly  legation.  When  I  do  a 
thing  I  don't  do  it  by  halves." 

My  promise,  then,  was  given;  but  six  months  are 
six  months,  and  seem  an  eternity,  and  inasmuch 
as  they  stretched  between  me  and  my  prospective 
industry  (I  suppose  attaches  are  industrious;  but 
I  know  not,  for  I  never  became  attache  to  Sir  Jacob 
or  to  anybody  else)  I  cast  about  for  some  desirable 
mode  of  spending  them.  And  it  occurred  to  me 


10  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

suddenly  that  I  would  visit  Ruritania.  It  may  seem 
strange  that  I  had  never  visited  that  country  yet; 
but  my  father  (in  spite  of  a  sneaking  fondness  for 
the  Elphbergs,  which  led  him  to  give  me,  his  sec- 
ond son,  the  famous  Elphberg  name  of  Rudolf)  had 
always  been  averse  to  my  going,  and  since  his  death 
my  brother,  prompted  by  Rose,  had  accepted  the 
family  tradition  which  taught  that  a  wide  berth  was 
to  be  given  to  that  country.  But  the  moment 
Ruritania  had  come  into  my  head  I  was  eaten  up 
with  curiosity  to  see  it.  After  all,  red  hair  and  long 
noses  are  not  confined  to  the  House  of  Elphberg, 
and  the  old  story  seemed  a  preposterously  insuffi- 
cient reason  for  debarring  myself  from  acquaint- 
ance with  a  highly  interesting  and  important  king- 
dom, one  which  had  played  no  small  part  in  Euro- 
pean history,  and  might  do  the  like  again  under  the 
sway  of  a  young  and  vigorous  ruler,  such  as  the 
new  king  was  rumored  to  be.  My  determination 
was  clinched  by  reading  in  The  Times  that  Rudolf 
the  Fifth  was  to  be  crowned  at  Strelsau  in  the 
course  of  the  next  three  weeks,  and  that  great  mag- 
nificence was  to  mark  the  occasion.  At  once  I 


THE  RASSENDYLLS.  n 

made  up  my  mind  to  be  present,  and  began  my 
preparations.  But  inasmuch  as  it  has  never 
been  my  practice  to  furnish  my  relatives  with  an 
itinerary  of  my  journeys,  and  in  this  case  I  antici- 
pated opposition  to  my  wishes,  I  gave  out  that  I 
was  going  for  a  ramble  in  the  Tyrol — an  old  haunt 
of  mine — and  propitiated  Rose's  wrath  by  declaring 
that  I  intended  to  study  the  political  and  social 
problems  of  the  interesting  community  which 
dwells  in  that  neighborhood. 

"  Perhaps,"  I  hinted  darkly,  "  there  may  be  an 
outcome  of  the  expedition." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,"  said  I  carelessly,  "  there  seems  a  gap 
that  might  be  filled  by  an  exhaustive  work 
on " 

"  Oh!  will  you  write  a  book  ?"  she  cried,  clap- 
ping her  hands.  "  That  would  be  splendid, 
wouldn't  it,  Robert?  " 

"  It's  the  best  of  introductions  to  political  life 
nowadays,"  observed  my  brother,  who  has,  by  the 
way,  introduced  himself  in  this  manner  several 
times  over.  Burlesdon  on  "  Ancient  Theories  and 


12  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

Modern  Facts  "  and  "  The  Ultimate  Outcome,"  by 
a  Political  Student,  are  both  works  of  recognized 
eminence. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Bob,  my  boy,"  said  I. 

"  Now  promise  you'll  do  it,"  said  Rose  earnestly. 

"  No,  I  won't  promise;  but  if  I  find  enough  ma- 
terial I  will." 

"  That's  fair  enough,"  said  Robert. 

"Oh!  material  doesn't  matter,"  she  said, 
pouting. 

But  this  time  she  could  get  no  more  than  a  quali- 
fied promise  out  of  me.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  would 
have  wagered  a  handsome  sum  that  the  story  of 
my  expedition  that  summer  would  stain  no  paper 
and  spoil  not  a  single  pen.  And  that  shows  how 
little  we  know  what  the  future  holds;  for  here  I  am, 
fulfilling  my  qualified  promise,  and  writing,  as  I 
never  thought  to  write,  a  book — though  it  will 
hardly  serve  as  an  introduction  to  political  life,  and 
has  not  a  jot  to  do  with  the  Tyrol. 

Neither  would  it,  I  fear,  please  Lady  Burlesdon, 
if  I  were  to  submit  it  to  her  critical  eye — a  step 
which  I  have  no  intention  of  taking. 


CHAPTER   II. 

CONCERNING   THE   COLOR   OF  MEN'S   HAIR. 

IT  was  a  maxim  of  my  Uncle  William's  that  no 
man  should  pass  through  Paris  without  spending 
four-and-twenty  hours  there.  My  uncle  spoke  out 
of  a  ripe  experience  of  the  world,  and  I  honored 
his  advice  by  putting  up  for  a  day  and  a  night  at 
The  Continental  on  my  way  to — the  Tyrol.  I 
called  on  George  Featherly  at  the  embassy,  and  we 
had  a  bit  of  dinner  together  at  Durand's,  and  after- 
ward dropped  in  to  the  Opera;  and  after  that  we 
had  a  little  supper,  and  after  that  we  called  on  Ber- 
tram Bertrand,  a  versifier  of  some  repute  and  Paris 
correspondent  to  The  Critic.  He  had  a  very  com- 
fortable little  suite  of  rooms,  and  we  found  some 
pleasant  fellows  smoking  and  talking.  It  struck 
me,  however,  that  Bertram  himself  was  absent  and 
in  low  spirits,  and  when  everybody  except  our- 
selves had  gone  I  rallied  him  on  his  moping  pre- 


14  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

occupation.  He  fenced  with  me  for  a  while,  but 
at  last,  flinging  himself  on  a  sofa,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Very  well;  have  it  your  own  way.  I  am  in  love 
— infernally  in  love!  " 

"  Oh,  you'll  write  the  better  poetry,"  said  I  by 
way  of  consolation. 

He  ruffled  his  hair  with  his  hand  and  smoked 
furiously.  George  Featherly,  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  mantelpiece,  smiled  unkindly. 

"  If  it's  the  old  affair,"  said  he,  "  you  may  as  well 
throw  it  up,  Bert.  She's  leaving  Paris  to-morrow." 

"  I  know  that,"  snapped  Bertram. 

"  Not  that  it  would  make  any  difference  if  she 
stayed/'  pursued  the  relentless  George.  "  She  flies 
higher  than  the  paper  trade,  my  boy!  " 

"  Hang  her!  "  said  Bertram. 

"  It  would  make  it  more  interesting  for  me,"  I 
ventured  to  observe,  "  if  I  knew  who  you  were 
talking  about." 

"  Antoinette  Mauban,"  said  George. 

"  De  Mauban,"  growled  Bertram. 

"  Oho!  "  said  I,  passing  by  the  question  of  the 
de.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say,  Bert — 


CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR.         15 

"  Can't  you  let  me  alone?  " 

"  Where's  she  going  to?  "  I  asked,  for  the  lady 
was  something  of  a  celebrity. 

George  jingled  his  money,  smiled  cruelly  at  poor 
Bertram,  and  answered  pleasantly: 

"  Nobody  knows.  By  the  way,  Bert,  I  met  a 
great  man  at  her  house  the  other  night — at  least, 
about  a  month  ago.  Did  you  ever  meet  him — the 
Duke  of  Strelsau?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  growled  Bertram. 

"  An  extremely  accomplished  man,  I  thought 
him." 

It  was  not  hard  to  see  that  George's  references 
to  the  duke  were  intended  to  aggravate  poor 
Bertram's  sufferings,  so  that  I  drew  the  inference 
that  the  duke  had  distinguished  Mme.  de  Mauban 
by  his  attentions.  She  was  a  widow,  rich,  hand- 
some, and,  according  to  repute,  ambitious.  It 
was  quite  possible  that  she,  as  George  put  it,  was 
flying  as  high  as  a  personage  who  was  everything 
he  could  be  short  of  enjoying  a  strictly  royal  rank: 
for  the  duke  was  the  son  of  the  late  King  of  Ruri- 
tania  by  a  second  and  morganatic  marriage,  and 


1 6  THE   PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

half  brother  to  the  new  king.  He  had  been  his 
father's  favorite,  and  it  had  occasioned  some  un- 
favorable comment  when  he  had  been  created  a 
duke,  with  a  title  derived  from  no  less  a  city  than 
the  capital  itself.  His  mother  had  been  of  good, 
but  not  exalted,  birth. 

"  He's  not  in  Paris  now,  is  he?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  no!  He's  gone  back  to  be  present  at  the 
king's  coronation;  a  ceremony  which,  I  should  say, 
he'll  not  enjoy  much.  But,  Bert,  old  man,  don't 
despair!  He  won't  marry  the  fair  Antoinette — at 
least,  not  unless  another  plan  comes  to  nothing. 

Still,  perhaps,  she "  He  paused  and  added  with 

a  laugh :  "  Royal  attentions  are  hard  to  resist — you 
know  that,  don't  you,  Rudolf?  " 

"  Confound  you!  "  said  I;  and,  rising,  I  left  the 
hapless  Bertram  in  George's  hands  and  went  home 
to  bed. 

The  next  day  George  Featherly  went  with  me  to 
the  station,  where  I  took  a  ticket  for  Dresden. 

"  Going  to  see  the  pictures?"  asked  George,  with 
a  grin. 

George  is  an  inveterate  gossip,  and  had  I  told 


CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR.          17 

him  that  I  was  off  to  Ruritania  the  news  would 
have  been  in  London  in  three  days  and  in  Park 
Lane  in  a  week.  I  was  therefore  about  to  return 
an  evasive  answer  when  he  saved  my  conscience  by 
leaving  me  suddenly  and  darting  across  the  plat- 
form. Following  him  with  my  eyes,  I  saw  him 
lift  his  hat  and  accost  a  graceful,  fashionably 
dressed  woman  who  had  just  appeared  from  the 
booking  office.  She  was  perhaps  a  year  or  two 
over  thirty,  tall,  dark,  and  of  rather  full  figure.  As 
George  talked,  I  saw  her  glance  at  me,  and  my 
vanity  was  hurt  by  the  thought  that,  muffled  in  a 
fur  coat  and  a  neck  wrapper  (for  it  was  a  chilly 
April  day)  and  wearing  a  soft  traveling  hat  pulled 
down  over  my  ears,  I  must  be  looking  very  far 
from  my  best.  A  moment  later  George  rejoined 
me. 

"  You've  got  a  charming  traveling  companion," 
he  said.  "  That's  poor  Bert  Bertrand's  goddess, 
Antoinette  de  Mauban,  and,  like  you,  she's  going 
to  Dresden — also,  no  doubt,  to  see  the  pictures. 
It's  very  queer,  though,  that  she  doesn't  at  present 
desire  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance." 


1 8  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

"  I  didn't  ask  to  be  introduced,"  I  observed,  a 
little  annoyed. 

"  Well,  I  offered  to  bring  you  to  her;  but  she 
said,  '  Another  time.'  Never  mind,  old  fellow, 
perhaps  there'll  be  a  smash,  and  you'll  have  a 
chance  of  rescuing  her  and  cutting  out  the  Duke 
of  Strelsau!" 

No  smash,  however,  happened,  either  to  me  or 
to  Mme.  de  Mauban.  I  can  speak  for  her  as  con- 
fidently as  for  myself;  for  when,  after  a  night's  rest 
in  Dresden,  I  continued  my  journey  she  got  into 
the  same  train.  Understanding  that  she  wished  to 
be  let  alone,  I  avoided  her  carefully,  but  I  saw  that 
she  went  the  same  way  as  I  did  to  the  very  end  of 
my  journey,  and  I  took  opportunities  of  having  a 
good  look  at  her,  when  I  could  do  so  unobserved. 

As  soon  as  we  reached  the  Ruritanian  frontier 
(where  the  old  officer  who  presided  over  the  cus- 
tomhouse favored  me  with  such  a  stare  that  I  felt 
surer  than  before  of  my  Elphberg  physiognomy)  I 
bought  the  papers,  and  found  in  them  news  which 
affected  my  movements.  For  some  reason,  which 
was  not  clearly  explained  and  seemed  to  be  some- 


CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR.         19 

thing  of  a  mystery,  the  date  of  the  coronation  had 
been  suddenly  advanced,  and  the  ceremony  was  to 
take  place  on  the  next  day  but  one.  The  whole 
country  seemed  in  a  stir  about  it,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent that  Strelsau  was  thronged.  Rooms  were  all 
let  and  hotels  overflowing;  there  would  be  very 
little  chance  of  my  obtaining  a  lodging,  and  I 
should  certainly  have  to  pay  an  exorbitant  charge 
for  it.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  stop  at  Zenda,  a 
small  town  fifty  miles  short  of  the  capital,  and  about 
ten  from  the  frontier.  My  train  reached  there  in 
the  evening;  I  would  spend  the  next  day,  Tuesday, 
in  a  wander  over  the  hills,  which  were  said  to  be 
very  fine,  and  in  taking  a  glance  at  the  famous 
castle,  and  go  over  by  train  to  Strelsau  on  the 
Wednesday  morning,  returning  at  night  to  sleep  at 
Zenda. 

Accordingly  at  Zenda  I  got  out,  and  as  the  train 
passed  where  I  stood  on  the  platform,  I  saw  my 
friend  Mme.  de  Mauban  in  her  place;  clearly  she 
was  going  through  to  Strelsau,  having,  with  more 
providence  than  I  could  boast,  secured  apartments 
there.  I  smiled  to  think  how  surprised  George 


20  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/I. 

Featherly  would  have  been  to  know  that  she  and  I 
had  been  follow-travelers  for  so  long. 

I  was  very  kindly  received  at  the  hotel — it  was 
really  no  more  than  an  inn — kept  by  a  fat  old  lady 
and  her  two  daughters.  They  were  good,  quiet 
people,  and  seemed  very  little  interested  in  the 
great  doings  at  Strelsau.  The  old  lady's  hero  was 
the  duke,  for  he  was  now,  under  the  late  king's  will, 
master  of  the  Zenda  estates  and  of  the  castle,  which 
rose  grandly  on  its  steep  hill  at  the  end  of  the  val- 
ley, a  mile  or  so  from  the  inn.  The  old  lady,  in- 
deed, did  not  hesitate  to  express  her  regret  that  the 
duke  was  not  on  the  throne  instead  of  his  brother. 

"  We  know  Duke  Michael,"  said  she.  "  He  has 
always  lived  among  us;  every  Ruritanian  knows 
Duke  Michael.  But  the  king  is  almost  a  stranger; 
he  has  been  so  much  abroad  not  one  in  ten  knows 
him  even  by  sight." 

"  And  now,"  chimed  in  one  of  the  young  women, 
"  they  say  he  has  shaved  off  his  beard,  so  that  no 
one  at  all  knows  him." 

"Shaved  his  beard!"  exclaimed  her  mother. 
"  Who  says  so?  " 


CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR.         2 1 

"  Johann,  the  duke's  keeper.  He  has  seen  the 
king." 

"  Ah,  yes !  The  king,  sir,  is  now  at  the  duke's 
shooting  lodge  in  the  forest  here;  from  here  he 
goes  to  Strelsau  to  be  crowned  on  Wednesday 
morning." 

I  was  interested  to  hear  this,  and  made  up  my 
mind  to  walk  next  day  in  the  direction  of  the  lodge 
on  the  chance  of  coming  across  the  king.  The  old 
lady  ran  on  garrulously: 

"  Ah!  and  I  wish  he  would  stay  at  his  shooting 
— that  and  wine  (and  one  thing  more)  are  all  he 
loves,  they  say — and  suffer  our  duke  to  he  crowned 
on  Wednesday.  That  I  wish,  and  I  don't  care  who 
knows  it." 

"  Hush,  mother!  "  urged  the  daughters. 

"Oh,  there's  many  to  think  as  I  do!  "  cried  the 
old  woman  stubbornly. 

I  threw  myself  back  in  my  deep  armchair  and 
laughed  at  her  zeal. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  the  younger  and  prettier  of 
the  two  daughters,  a  fair,  buxom,  smiling  wench, 
"  I  hate  Black  Michael!  A  red  Elphberg  for  me, 


22  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

mother!     The  king,  they  say,  is  as  red  as  a  fox  or 
as " 

And  she  laughed  mischievously  as  she  cast  a 
glance  at  me,  and  tossed  her  head  at  her  sister's  re- 
proving face. 

"  Many  a  man  has  cursed  this  red  hair  before 
now,"  muttered  the  old  lady — and  I  remembered 
James,  fifth  Earl  of  Burlesdon. 

"  But  never  a  woman!  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  Ay,  and  women,  when  it  was  too  late,"  was  the 
stern  answer,  reducing  the  girl  to  silence  and 
blushes. 

"  How  comes  the  king  here?  "  I  asked,  to  break 
an  embarrassed  silence.  "  It  is  the  duke's  land 
here,  you  say." 

'  The  duke  invited  him,  sir,  to  rest  here  till 
Wednesday.  The  duke  is  at  Strelsau,  preparing 
the  king's  reception." 

"  Then  they're  friends?  " 

"  None  better,"  said  the  old  lady. 

But  my  rosy  damsel  tossed  her  head  again;  she 
was  not  to  be  repressed  for  long,  and  she  broke 
out  again: 


CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR.         23 

"  Aye,  they  love  one  another  as  men  do  who 
want  the  same  place  and  the  same  wife!  " 

The  old  woman  glowered;  but  the  last  words 
pricked  my  curiosity,  and  I  interposed  before  she 
could  begin  scolding: 

"  What,  the  same  wife,  too!  How's  that,  young 
lady?  " 

"  All  the  world  knows  that  Black  Michael — well, 
then,  mother,  the  duke — would  give  his  soul  to 
marry  his  cousin,  the  Princess  Flavia,  and  that  she 
is  to  be  the  queen." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  I,  "  I  begin  to  be  sorry 
for  your  duke.  But  if  a  man  will  be  a  younger 
son,  why,  he  must  take  what  the  elder  leaves,  and 
be  as  thankful  to  God  as  he  can;  "  and,  thinking  of 
myself,  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  and  laughed. 
And  then  I  thought  also  of  Antoinette  de  Mauban 
and  her  journey  to  Strelsau. 

"  It's  little  dealing  Black  Michael  has  with " 

began  the  girl,  braving  her  mother's  anger; 
but  as  she  spoke  a  heavy  step  sounded  on  the 
floor,  and  a  gruff  voice  asked  in  a  threatening 
tone: 


24  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

"  Who  talks  of '  Black  Michael '  in  his  Highness' 
own  burgh?  " 

The  girl  gave  a  little  shriek,  half  of  fright — half, 
I  think,  of  amusement. 

"  You'll  not  tell  of  me,  Johann?  "  she  said. 

"  See  where  your  chatter  leads,"  said  the  old 
lady. 

The  man  who  had  spoken  came  forward. 

"  We  have  company,  Johann,"  said  my  hostess, 
and  the  fellow  plucked  off  his  cap.  A  moment 
later  he  saw  me,  and  to  my  amazement  he  started 
back  a  step,  as  though  he  had  seen  something  won- 
derful. 

"  What  ails  you,  Johann?  "  asked  the  elder  girl. 
'  This  is  a  gentleman  on  his  travels,  come  to  see  the 
coronation." 

The  man  had  recovered  himself,  but  he  was  star- 
ing at  me  with  an  intense,  searching,  almost  fierce 
glance. 

"  Good-evening  to  you,"  said  I. 

"  Good-evening,  sir,"  he  muttered,  still  scrutin- 
izing me,  and  the  merry  girl  began  to  laugh  as  she 
called: 


CONCERNING  THE  COLOR  OF  MEN'S  HAIR.        2$ 

"See,  Johann,  it  is  the  color  you  love!  He 
started  to  see  your  hair,  sir.  It's  not  the  color  we 
see  most  of  here  in  Zenda." 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  sir,"  stammered  the  fel- 
low, with  puzzled  eyes.  "  I  expected  to  see  no 
one." 

"  Give  him  a  glass  to  drink  my  health  in;  and  I'll 
bid  you  good-night,  and  thanks  to  you,  ladies,  for 
your  courtesy  and  pleasant  conversation." 

So  speaking,  I  rose  to  my  feet,  and  with  a  slight 
bow  turned  to  the  door.  The  young  girl  ran  to 
light  me  on  the  way,  and  the  man  fell  back  to  let 
me  pass,  his  eyes  still  fixed  on  me.  The  moment  I 
was  by  he  started  a  step  forward,  asking: 

"  Pray,  sir,  do  you  know  our  king?  " 

"  I  never  saw  him,"  said  I.  "  I  hope  to  do  so 
on  Wednesday." 

He  said  no  more,  but  I  felt  his  eyes  following 
me  till  the  door  closed  behind  me.  My  saucy  con- 
ductor, looking  over  her  shoulder  at  me  as  she  pre- 
ceded me  upstairs,  said: 

"  There's  no  pleasing  Master  Johann  for  one  of 
your  color,  sir." 


26  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND A. 

"  He  prefers  yours,  maybe?  "  I  suggested. 

"  I  meant,  sir,  in  a  man,"  she  answered,  with  a 
coquettish  glance. 

"  What,"  asked  I,  taking  hold  of  the  other  side 
of  the  candlestick,  "  does  color  matter  in  a  man?  " 

"  Nay,  but  I  love  yours — it's  the  Elphberg  red." 

*'  Color  in  a  man,"  said  I,  "  is  a  matter  of  no  more 
moment  than  that!  "  and  I  gave  her  something  of 
no  value. 

"  God  send  the  kitchen  door  be  shut !  "  said  she. 

"  Amen!  "  said  I,  and  left  her. 

In  fact,  however,  as  I  now  know,  color  is  some- 
times of  considerable  moment  to  a  man. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  MERRY  EVENING  WITH  A  DISTANT  RELATIVE. 

I  WAS  not  so  unreasonable  as  to  be  prejudiced 
against  the  duke's  keeper  because  he  disliked  my 
complexion;  and  if  I  had  been,  his  most  civil  and 
obliging  conduct  (as  it  seemed  to  me  to  be)  next 
morning  would  have  disarmed  me.  Hearing  that 
I  was  bound  for  Strelsau,  he  came  to  see  me  while  I 
was  breakfasting,  and  told  me  that  a  sister  of  his, 
who  had  married  a  well-to-do  tradesman  and  lived 
in  the  capital,  had  invited  him  to  occupy  a  room  in 
her  house.  He  had  gladly  accepted,  but  now  found 
that  his  duties  would  not  permit  of  his  absence.  He 
begged,  therefore,  that  if  such  humble  (though,  as 
he  added,  clean  and  comfortable)  lodgings  would 
satisfy  me  I  would  take  his  place.  He  pledged  his 
sister's  acquiescence,  and  urged  the  inconvenience 
and  crowding  to  which  I  should  be  subject  in  my 
journeys  to  and  from  Strelsau  the  next  day.  I  ac- 


28  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND A. 

ceptecl  his  offer  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  and 
he  went  off  to  telegraph  to  his  sister,  while  I  packed 
up  and  prepared  to  take  the  next  train.  But  I  still 
hankered  after  the  forest  and  the  shooting  lodge, 
and  when  my  little  maid  told  me  that  I  could,  by 
walking  ten  miles  or  so  through  the  forest,  hit  the 
railway  at  a  roadside  station,  I  decided  to  send  my 
luggage  direct  to  the  address  which  Johann  had 
given,  take  my  walk,  and  follow  to  Strelsau  myself. 
Johann  had  gone  off  and  was  not  aware  of  the 
change  in  my  plans;  but  as  its  only  effect  was  to  de- 
lay my  arrival  at  his  sister's  for  a  few  hours,  there 
was  no  reason  for  troubling  to  inform  him  of  it. 
Doubtless  the  good  lady  would  waste  no  anxiety 
on  my  account. 

I  took  an  early  luncheon,  and  having  bidden  my 
kind  entertainers  farewell,  promising  to  return  to 
them  on  my  way  home,  I  set  out  to  climb  the  hill 
that  led  to  the  castle,  and  thence  to  the  forest  of 
Zenda.  Half  an  hour's  leisurely  walking  brought 
me  to  the  castle.  It  had  been  a  fortress  in  old  days, 
and  the  ancient  keep  was  still  in  good  preservation 
and  very  imposing.  Behind  it  stood  another  por- 


Reference  b  Plan 
Oti  Gastft,. 


III  Chi  Chaftau 
A  OM    Moat 


C  Qatimjy     K/htft  Jl  Qaattt 

DJ>/3/r  /c  Mb  Wry'j  Ct/1 

C  Guard  -room 

F  Cfte,  Kmq's  (W/ 

G  Jijeot-  y    Itaddtf   f 

R  Had  oT  //it  C/>alMu 

K  0»or  ivhiod  Johann    Nfet 

'  15  ofatn 

Li  B'oek.  Hi chat/  &  <^>«rfrtvnr 
itnP  tf   /•).  4»  Monbai 


PLAN    OF  THE   CASTLE   OF   ZENDA.— fage  23 


A  MERRY  EVENING.  29 

tion  of  the  original  castle,  and  behind  that  again, 
and  separated  from  it  by  a  deep  and  broad  moat, 
which  ran  all  round  the  old  buildings,  was  a  hand- 
some modern  chateau,  erected  by  the  last  king,  and 
now  forming  the  country  residence  of  the  Duke  of 
Strelsau.  The  old  and  the  new  portions  were  con- 
nected by  a  drawbridge,  and  this  indirect  mode  of 
access  formed  the  only  passage  between  the  old 
building  and  the  outer  world;  but  leading  to  the 
modern  chateau  there  was  a  broad  and  handsome 
avenue.  It  was  an  ideal  residence;  when  "  Black 
Michael  "  desired  company  he  could  dwell  in  his 
chateau;  if  a  fit  of  misanthropy  seized  him  he  had 
merely  to  cross  the  bridge  and  draw  it  up  after  him 
(it  ran  on  rollers),  and  nothing  short  of  a  regiment 
and  a  train  of  artillery  could  fetch  him  out.  I  went 
on  my  way,  glad  that  poor  Black  Michael,  though 
he  could  not  have  the  throne  or  the  princess,  had  at 
least  got  as  fine  a  residence  as  any  prince  in  Europe. 
Soon  I  entered  the  forest,  and  walked  on  for  an 
hour  or  more  in  its  cool,  somber  shade.  The  great 
trees  enlaced  with  one  another  over  my  head,  and 
the  sunshine  stole  through  in  patches  as  bright  as 


30  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

diamonds,  and  hardly  bigger.  I  was  enchanted 
with  the  place,  and  finding  a  felled  tree  trunk, 
propped  my  back  against  it,  and  stretching  my  legs 
out,  gave  myself  up  to  undisturbed  contemplation 
of  the  solemn  beauty  of  the  woods  and  to  the  com- 
fort of  a  good  cigar.  And  when  the  cigar  was  fin- 
ished, and  I  had  (I  suppose)  inhaled  as  much  beauty 
as  I  could,  I  went  off  into  the  most  delightful  sleep, 
regardless  of  my  train  to  Strelsau  and  of  the  fast- 
waning  afternoon.  To  remember  a  train  in  such 
a  spot  would  have  been  rank  sacrilege.  Instead  of 
that  I  fell  to  dreaming  that  I  was  married  to  the 
Princess  Flavia  and  dwelt  in  the  castle  of  Zenda, 
and  beguiled  whole  days  with  my  love  in  the  glades 
of  the  forest,  which  made  a  very  pleasant  dream. 
In  fact,  I  was  just  impressing  a  fervent  kiss  on  the 
charming  lips  of  the  princess  when  I  heard  (and 
the  voice  seemed  at  first  a  part  of  the  dream)  some- 
one exclaim  in  rough,  strident  tones: 

"Why,  the  devil's  in  it!  Shave  him  and  he'd 
be  the  king!  " 

The  idea  seemed  whimsical  enough  for  a  dream ; 
by  the  sacrifice  of  my  heavy  mustache  and  carefully 


A  MERRY  EVENING.  31 

pointed  imperial  I  was  to  be  transformed  into  a 
monarch!  I  was  about  to  kiss  the  princess  again 
when  I  arrived  (very  reluctantly)  at  the  conclusion 
that  I  was  awake. 

I  opened  my  eyes,  and  found  two  men  regarding 
me  with  much  curiosity.  Both  wore  shooting  cos- 
tumes and  carried  guns.  One  was  rather  short  and 
very  stoutly  built,  with  a  big  bullet-shaped  head,  a 
bristly  gray  mustache,  and  small,  pale-blue  eyes,  a 
trifle  bloodshot.  The  other  was  a  slender  young 
fellow,  of  middle  height,  dark  in  complexion,  and 
bearing  himself  with  grace  and  distinction.  I  set 
the  one  down  as  an  old  soldier;  the  other  for  a  gen- 
tleman accustomed  to  move  in  good  society,  but 
not  unused  to  military  life  either.  It  turned  out 
afterward  that  my  guess  was  a  good  one. 

The  elder  man  approached  me,  beckoning  the 
younger  to  follow.  He  did  so,  courteously  raising 
his  hat.  I  rose  to  my  feet. 

"  He's  the  height,  too!  "  I  heard  the  elder  mur- 
mur as  he  surveyed  my  six  feet  two  inches  of 
stature.  Then,  with  a  cavalier  touch  of  the  cap,  he 
addressed  me: 


32  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND A. 

"  May  I  ask  your  name?  " 

"  As  you  have  taken  the  first  step  in  the  acquaint- 
ance, gentlemen,"  said  I,  with  a  smile,  "  suppose 
you  give  me  a  lead  in  the  matter  of  names." 

The  young  man  stepped  forward  with  a  pleasant 
smile. 

"  This,"  said  he,  "  is  Colonel  Sapt,  and  I  am 
called  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim;  we  are  both  in  the 
service  of  the  King  of  Ruritania." 

I  bowed  and,  baring  my  head,  answered: 

"  I  am  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  I  am  a  traveler  from 
England;  and  once  for  a  year  or  two  I  held  a  com- 
mission from  her  Majesty  the  Queen." 

"  Then  we  are  all  brethren  of  the  sword,"  an- 
swered Tarlenheim,  holding  out  his  hand,  which  I 
took  readily. 

''  Rassendyll,  Rassendyll!  "  muttered  Colonel 
Sapt;  then  a  gleam  of  intelligence  flitted  across  his 
face. 

"By  Heaven!"  he  cried,  "you're  of  the 
Burlesdons?  " 

"  My  brother  is  now  Lord  Burlesdon,"  said  I. 

"  Thy  head  bewrayeth  thee,"  he  chuckled,  point- 


A  MERRY  EVENING.  33 

ing  to  my  uncovered  poll.  "  Why,  Fritz,  yon 
know  the  story?  " 

The  young  man  glanced  apologetically  at  me. 
He  felt  a  delicacy  which  my  sister-in-law  would 
have  admired.  To  put  him  at  his  ease  I  remarked, 
with  a  smile : 

"  Ah!  the  story  is  known  here  as  well  as  among 
us,  it  seems." 

"  Known!  "  cried  Sapt.  "  If  you  stay  here  the 
deuce  a  man  in  all  Ruritania  will  doubt  of  it — or  a 
woman  either." 

I  began  to  feel  uncomfortable.  Had  I  realized 
what  a  very  plainly  written  pedigree  I  carried  about 
with  me,  I  should  have  thought  long  before  I  vis- 
ited Ruritania.  However,  I  was  in  for  it  now. 

At  this  moment  a  ringing  voice  sounded  from 
the  wood  behind  us: 

"  Fritz,  Fritz!  where  are  you,  man?  " 

Tarlenheim  started,  and  said  hastily: 

"It's  the  king!" 

Old  Sapt  chuckled  again. 

Then  a  young  man  jumped  out  from  behind  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  and  stood  beside  us,  As  I  looked 


34  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

on  him  I  uttered  an  astonished  cry;  and  he,  seeing 
me,  drew  back  in  sudden  wonder.  Saving  the  hair 
on  my  face  and  a  manner  of  conscious  dignity 
which  his  position  gave  him,  saving  also  that  he 
lacked  perhaps  half  an  inch — nay,  less  than  that, 
but  still  something — of  my  height,  the  King  of 
Ruritana  might  have  been  Rudolf  Rassendyll,  and 
I  Rudolf  the  King. 

For  an  instant  we  stood  motionless,  looking  at 
one  another.  Then  I  bared  my  head  again  and 
bowed  respectfully.  The  king  found  his  voice,  and 
asked  in  bewilderment: 

"  Colonel — Fritz — who  is  this  gentleman?  " 
I  was  about  to  answer  when  Colonel  Sapt 
stepped  between  the  king  and  me,  and  began  to 
talk  to  his  Majesty  in  a  low  growl.  The  king 
towered  over  Sapt,  and  as  he  listened  his  eyes  now 
and  again  sought  mine.  I  looked  at  him  long  and 
carefully.  The  likeness  was  certainly  astonishing, 
though  I  saw  the  points  of  difference  also.  The 
king's  face  was  slightly  more  fleshy  than  mine,  the 
oval  of  its  contour  the  least  trifle  more  pronounced, 
and,  as  I  fancied,  his  mouth  lacked  something  of 


A   MERRY  EVENING.  •      35 

the  firmness  (or  obstinacy)  which  was  to  be  gath- 
ered from  my  close-shutting  lips.  But  for  all  that, 
and  above  all  minor  distinctions,  the  likeness  rose 
striking,  salient,  wonderful. 

Sapt  ceased  speaking,  and  the  king  still  frowned. 
Then,  gradually,  the  corners  of  his  mouth  began 
to  twitch,  his  nose  came  down  (as  mine  does  when 
I  laugh),  his  eyes  twinkled,  and,  behold!  he  burst 
into  the  merriest  fit  of  irrepressible  laughter,  which 
rang  through  the  woods  and  proclaimed  him  a 
jovial  soul. 

"Well  met,  cousin!"  he  cried,  stepping  up  to 
me,  clapping  me  on  the  back,  and  laughing  still. 
"  You  must  forgive  me  if  I  was  taken  aback.  A 
man  doesn't  expect  to  see  double  at  this  time  of 
clay;  eh,  Fritz?" 

"  I  must  pray  pardon,  sire,  for  my  presumption," 
said  I.  "  I  trust  it  will  not  forfeit  your  Majesty's 
favor." 

"  By  Heaven!  you'll  always  enjoy  the  king's 
countenance,"  he  laughed,  "  whether  I  like  it  or 
not;  and,  sir,  I  shall  very  gladly  add  to  it  what  ser- 
vices I  can.  Where  are  you  traveling  to?  " 


36  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

"  To  Strelsau,  sire — to  the  coronation." 

The  king  looked  at  his  friends:  he  still  smiled, 
though  his  expression  hinted  some  uneasiness. 
But  the  humorous  side  of  the  matter  caught  him 
again. 

"  Fritz,  Fritz!  "  he  cried,  "  a  thousand  crowns  for 
a  sight  of  brother  Michael's  face  when  he  sees  a 
pair  of  us!"  and  the  merry  laugh  rang  out 
again. 

"  Seriously,"  observed  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  "  I 
question  Mr.  Rassendyll's  wisdom  in  visiting  Strel- 
sau just  now." 

The  king  lit  a  cigarette. 

"  Well,  Sapt?  "  said  he  questioningly. 

"  He  mustn't  go,"  growled  the  old  fellow. 

"  Come,  colonel,  you  mean  that  I  should  be  in 
Mr.  Rassendyll's  debt  if — 

"  Oh,  aye!  wrap  it  up  in  the  right  way,"  said 
Sapt.  hauling  a  great  pipe  out  of  his  pocket. 

''  Enough,  sire,"  said  I.  "  I'll  leave  Ruritania 
to-day." 

"  Now.  by  thunder,  you  shan't — and  that's  sans 
phrase,  as  Sapt  likes  it.  For  you  shall  dine  with 


A  MERRY  EVENING.  37 

me  to-night,  happen  what  will  afterward.  Come, 
man,  you  don't  meet  a  new  relation  every 
day!" 

"  We  dine  sparingly  to-night,"  said  Fritz  von 
Tarlenheim. 

"Not  we — with  our  new  cousin  for  a  guest!" 
cried  the  king;  and  as  Fritz  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
he  added:  "Oh!  I'll  remember  our  early  start, 
Fritz." 

"  So  will  I — to-morrow  morning,"  said  old  Sapt, 
pulling  at  his  pipe. 

"  Oh,  wise  old  Sapt!  "  cried  the  king.  "  Come, 
Mr.  Rassendyll — by  the  way,  what  name  did  they 
give  you?  " 

"  Your  Majesty's,"  I  answered,  bowing. 

"  Well,  that  shows  they  weren't  ashamed  of  us," 
he  laughed.  "  Come,  then,  cousin  Rudolf.  I've 
got  no  house  of  my  own  here,  but  my  dear  brother 
Michael  lends  us  a  place  of  his,  and  we'll  make  shift 
to  entertain  you  there; "  and  he  put  his  arm 
through  mine,  and  signing  to  the  others  to  ac- 
company us,  walked  me  off,  westerly,  through  the 
forest. 


38  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

We  walked  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  and  the 
king  smoked  cigarettes  and  chattered  incessantly. 
He  was  full  of  interest  in  my  family,  laughed  heart- 
ily when  I  told  him  of  the  portraits  with  Elphberg 
hair  in  our  galleries,  and  yet  more  heartily  when  he 
heard  that  my  expedition  to  Ruritania  was  a  secret 
one. 

:<  You  have  to  visit  your  disreputable  cousin  on 
the  sly,  have  you?  "  said  he. 

Suddenly  emerging  from  the  wood,  we  came  on 
a  small  and  rude  shooting  lodge.  It  was  a  one- 
story  building,  a  sort  of  bungalow,  built  entirely  of 
wood.  As  we  approached  it,  a  little  man  in  a  plain 
livery  came  out  to  meet  us.  The  only  other  per- 
son I  saw  about  the  place  was  a  fat  elderly  woman, 
whom  I  afterward  discovered  to  be  the  mother  of 
Johann,  the  duke's  keeper. 

"  Well,  is  dinner  ready,  Josef? "  asked  the 
king. 

The  little  servant  informed  us  that  it  was,  and  we 
soon  sat  down  to  a  plentiful  meal.  The  fare  was 
plain  enough:  the  king  ate  heartily,  Fritz  von  Tar- 
lenheim  delicately,  old  Sapt  voraciously.  I  played 


A  MERRY  EVENING.  39 

a  good  knife  and  fork,  as  my  custom  is;  the  king 
noticed  my  performance  with  approval. 

"  We're  all  good  trenchermen,  we  Elphbergs," 
said  he.  "  But  what? — we're  eating  dry!  Wine, 
Josef!  wine,  man!  Are  we  beasts,  to  eat  without 
drinking?  Are  we  cattle,  Josef?  " 

At  this  reproof  Josef  hastened  to  load  the  table 
with  bottles. 

"  Remember  to-morrow!  "  said  Fritz. 

"Aye — to-morrow!"  said  old  Sapt. 

The  king  drained  a  bumper  to  his  "  Cousin 
Rudolf,"  as  he  was  gracious — or  merry — enough 
to  call  me;  and  I  drank  its  fellow  to  the  "  Elphberg 
red,"  whereat  he  laughed  loudly. 

Now,  be  the  meat  what  it  might,  the  wine  we 
drank  was  beyond  all  price  or  praise,  and  we  did  it 
justice.  Fritz  ventured  once  to  stay  the  king's 
hand. 

"  What?  "  cried  the  king.  "  Remember  you 
start  before  I  do.  Master  Fritz — you  must  be  more 
sparing  by  two  hours  than  I." 

Fritz  saw  that  I  did  not  understand. 

"  The  colonel  and  I,"  he  explained,  "  leave  here 


4&  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/t. 

at  six;  we  ride  down  to  Zenda  and  return  with  the 
guard  of  honor  to  fetch  the  king  at  eight,  and  then 
we  all  ride  together  to  the  station.'' 

"  Hang  that  same  guard!  "  growled  Sapt. 

"  Oh !  it's  very  civil  of  my  brother  to  ask  the 
honor  for  his  regiment,"  said  the  king.  ''  Come, 
cousin,  you  need  not  start  early.  Another  bottle, 
man !  " 

I  had  another  bottle — or.  rather,  a  part  of  one, 
for  the  larger  half  traveled  quickly  down  his 
Majesty's  throat.  Fritz  gave  up  his  attempts  at 
persuasion:  from  persuading  he  fell  to  being  per- 
suaded, and  soon  we  were  all  of  us  as  full  of  wine  as 
we  had  any  right  to  be.  The  king  began  talking  of 
what  he  would  do  in  the  future,  old  Sapt  of  what  he 
had  done  in  the  past,  Fritz  of  some  beautiful  girl  or 
other,  and  I  of  the  wonderful  merits  of  the  Elph- 
berg  dynasty.  \Ye  all  talked  at  once,  and  followed 
to  the  letter  Sapt's  exhortation  to  let  the  morrow 
take  care  of  itself. 

At  last  the  king  set  down  his  glass  and  leaned 
back  in  his  chair. 

"  I  have  drunk  enough,"  said  he. 


A  MERRY  EVENING.  41 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  contradict  the  king," 
said  I. 

Indeed,  his  remark  was  most  absolutely  true — 
so  far  as  it  went. 

While  I  yet  spoke  Josef  came  and  set  before  the 
king  a  marvelous  old  wicker-covered  flagon.  It 
had  lain  so  long  in  some  darkened  cellar  that  it 
seemed  to  blink  in  the  candlelight. 

"  His  Highness  the  Duke  of  Strelsau  bade  me 
set  this  wine  before  the  king  when  the  king  was 
weary  of  all  other  wines,  and  pray  the  king  to  drink 
for  the  love  that  he  bears  his  brother." 

"Well  done,  Black  Michael!"  said  the  king. 
"  Out  with  the  cork,  Josef.  Hang  him!  Did  he 
think  I'd  flinch  from  his  bottle?  " 

The  bottle  was  opened,  and  Josef  filled  the  king's 
glass.  The  king  tasted  it.  Then,  with  a  solemnity 
born  of  the  hour  and  his  own  condition,  he  looked 
round  on  us. 

"  Gentlemen,  my  friends — Rudolf,  my  cousin 
('tis  a  scandalous  story,  Rudolf,  on  my  honor!) — 
evrything  is  yours,  to  the  half  of  Ruritania.  But 
ask  me  not  for  a  single  drop  of  this  divine  bottle, 


42  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

v\hich  I  will  drink  to  the  health  of  that — that  sly 
knave,  my  brother,  Black  Michael." 

And  the  king  seized  the  bottle  and  turned  it  over 
his  mouth,  and  drained  it  and  flung  it  from  him, 
and  laid  his  head  on  his  arms  on  the  table. 

And  we  drank  pleasant  dreams  to  his  Majesty — 
and  that  is  all  I  remember  of  the  evening.  Per- 
haps it  is  enough. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE     Klltfd     KEEPS     HIS    APPOINTMENT. 

WHETHER  I  had  slept  a  minute  or  a  year  I  knew 
not.  1  awoke  with  a  start  and  a  shiver;  my  face, 
hair,  and  clothes  dripped  watery  and  opposite  me 
stood  old  Sapt,  a  sneering  smile  on  his  face  and  an 
empty  bucket  iri  his  hand.  On  the  table  by  him 
sat  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  pale  as  a  ghost  and  black 
as  a  crow  under  the  eyes. 

I  leaped  to  my  feet  in  anger. 

'  Your  joke  goes  too  far,  sir! "  I  cried. 

"  Tuty  man,  we've  no  time  for  quarreling.  Noth- 
ing else  would  rouse  you.  It's  five  o'clock." 

"  I'll  thank  you.   Colonel  Sapt "   I  began 

again,  hot  in  spirit,  though  I  was  uncommonly  cold 
in  body. 

"  Rassendyll,"  interrupted  Fritz,  getting  down 
from  the  table  and  taking  my  arm,  "  look  here." 

The  king  lay  full  length  on  the  floor.     His  face 


44  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

was  as  red  as  his  hair,  and  he  breathed  heavily. 
Sapt,  the  disrespectful  old  dog,  kicked  him  sharply. 
He  did  not  stir,  nor  was  there  any  break  in  his 
breathing.  I  saw  that  his  face  and  head  were  wet 
with  water,  as  were  mine. 

"  We've  spent  half  an  hour  on  him,"  said  Fritz. 

"  He  drank  three  times  what  either  of  you  did," 
growled  Sapt. 

I  knelt  down  and  felt  his  pulse.  It  was  alarm- 
ingly languid  and  slow.  We  three  looked  at  one 
another. 

"  Was  it  drugged — that  last  bottle?  "  I  asked  in 
a  whisper. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Sapt. 

"  We  must  get  a  doctor." 

"  There's  none  within  ten  miles,  and  a  thousand 
doctors  wouldn't  take  him  to  Strelsau  to-day.  I 
know  the  look  of  it.  He'll  not  move  for  six  or 
seven  hours  yet." 

"  But  the  coronation!  "  I  cried  in  horror. 

Fritz  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  I  began  to  see 
was  his  habit  on  most  occasions. 

"  We  must  send  word  that  he's  ill,"  he  said. 


THE  KING  KEEPS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  45 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  I. 

Old  Sapt,  who  seemed  as  fresh  as  a  daisy,  had  lit 
his  pipe  and  was  puffing  hard  at  it. 

"  If  he's  not  crowned  to-day,"  said  he,  "  I'll  lay  a 
crown  he's  never  crowned." 

"  But,  Heavens,  why?  " 

"  The  whole  nation's  there  to  meet  him;  half  the 
army — aye,  and  Black  Michael  at  the  head.  Shall 
we  send  word  that  the  king's  drunk?  " 

"  That  he's  ill,"  said  I,  in  correction. 

"111!"  echoed  Sapt,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
'  They  kno.w  his  illnesses  too  well.  He's  been 
'ill'  before!" 

"  Well,  we  must  chance  what  they  think,"  said 
Fritz  helplessly.  "  I'll  carry  the  news  and  make 
the  best  of  it." 

Sapt  raised  his  hand. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  he:  "  do  you  think  the  king  was 
drugged? " 

"  I  do,"  said  I. 

"  And  who  drugged  him?  " 

"  That  damned  hound,  Black  Michael,"  said 
Fritz  between  his  teeth. 


46  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENbA. 

"  Aye,"  said  Sapt,  "  that  he  might  not  come  to 
be  crowned.  Rassendyll  here  doesn't  know  our 
pretty  Michael.  What  think  you,  Fritz — has 
Michael  no  king  ready?  Has  half  Strelsau  no 
other  candidate?  ^\s  God's  alive,  man,  the  throne's 
lost  if  the  king  show  himself  not  in  Strelsau  to- 
day. I  know  Black  Michael." 

"  We  could  carry  him  there,"  said  I. 

"  And  a  very  pretty  picture  he  makes,"  sneered 
Sapt. 

Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
The  king  breathed  loudly  and  heavily.  Sapt 
stirred  him  again  with  his  foot. 

"The  drunken  dog!"  he  said.  "But  he's  an 
Elphberg  and  the  son  of  his  father,  and  may  I  rot 
in  hell  before  Black  Michael  sits  in  his  place!  " 

For  a  moment  or  two  we  were  all  silent;  then 
Sapt,  knitting  his  bushy  gray  brows,  took  his  pipe 
from  his  moutty  and  said  to  me: 

"  As  a  man  grows  old  he  believes  in  Fate.  Fate 
sent  you  here.  Fate  sends  you  now  to  Strelsau." 

I  staggered  back,  murmuring,  "  Good  God !  " 

Fritz  looked  up  with  an  eager,  bewildered  gaze. 


THE  KING  KEEPS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  47 

"Impossible!"  I  murmured.  "I  should  be 
known." 

"  It's  a  risk — against  a  certainty,"  said  Sapt. 
"  If  you  shave  I'll  wager  you'll  not  be  known.  Are 
you  afraid?  " 

"Sir!" 

"  Come,  lad,  there,  there;  but  it's  your  life,  you 
know,  if  you're  known — and  mine — and  Fritz's 
here.  But  if  you  don't  go  I  swear  to  you  Black 
Michael  will  sit  to-night  on  the  throne,  and  the 
king  lie  in  prison  or  his  grave." 

'  The  king  would  never  forgive  it,"  I  stammered. 

"Are  we  women?  Who  cares  for  his  forgive- 
ness? " 

The  clock  ticked  fifty  times,  and  sixty  and 
seventy  times,  as  I  stood  in  thought.  Then  I  sup- 
pose a  look  came  over  my  face,  for  old  Sapt  caught 
me  by  the  hand,  crying: 

"  You'll  go?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  go,"  said  I,  and  I  turned  my  eyes  on 
the  prostrate  figure  of  the  king  on  the  floor. 

"  To-night,"  Sapt  went  on  in  a  hasty  whisper, 
"  we  are  to  lodge  in  the  palace.  The  moment  they 


48  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

leave  us  you  and  I  will  mount  our  horses — Fritz 
must  stay  here  and  guard  the  king's  room — and 
ride  here  at  a  gallop.  The  king  will  be  ready — 
Josef  will  tell  him — and  he  must  ride  back  with  me 
to  Strelsau,  and  you  ride  as  if  the  devil  were  be- 
hind you  to  the  frontier." 

I  took  it  all  in  in  a  second,  and  nodded  my 
head. 

"  There's  a  chance,"  said  Fritz,  with  his  first  sign 
of  hopefulness. 

"  If  I  escape  detection,"  said  I. 

"  If  we're  detected,"  said  Sapt,  "  I'll  send  Black 
Michael  down  below  before  I  go  myself,  so  help 
me  Heaven!  Sit  in  that  chair,  man." 

I  obeyed  him. 

He  darted  from  the  room,  calling,  "Josef! 
Josef!  "  In  three  minutes  he  was  back,  and  Josef 
with  him.  The  latter  carried  a  jug  of  hot  water, 
soap,  and  razors.  He  was  trembling  as  Sapt 
told  him  how  the  land  lay,  and  bade  him  shave 
me. 

Suddenly  Fritz  smote  on  hL  thigh: 

"  But  the  guard!     They'll  know!  they'll  know! " 


THE  KING  KEEPS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  49 

"  Pooh!  We  shan't  wait  for  the  guard.  We'll 
ride  to  Hofban  and  catch  a  train  there.  When 
they  come  the  bird  '11  be  flown." 

"  But  the  king?  " 

"  The  king  will  be  in  the  wine  cellar.  I'm  going 
to  carry  him  there  now." 

"  If  they  find  him?  " 

"  They  won't.  How  should  they?  Josef  will 
put  them  off." 

"  But " 

Sapt  stamped  his  foot. 

"We're  not  playing,"  he  roared.  "My  God! 
don't  I  know  the  risk?  If  they  do  find  him  he's 
no  worse  off  than  if  he  isn't  crowned  to-day  in 
Strelsau." 

So  speaking,  he  flung  the  door  open  and,  stoop- 
ing, put  forth  a  strength  I  did  not  dream  he  had, 
and  lifted  the  king  in  his  hands.  And  as  he  did  so 
the  old  woman,  Johann  the  keeper's  mother,  stood 
in  the  doorway.  For  a  moment  she  stood,  then 
she  turned  on  her  heel,  without  a  sign  of  surprise, 
and  clattered  down  the  passage. 

"  Has  she  heard?  "  cried  Fritz. 


50  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

"  I'll  shut  her  mouth!  "  said  Sapt  grimly,  and  he 
bore  off  the  king  in  his  arms. 

For  me,  I  sat  down  in  an  armchair,  and  as  I  sat 
there,  half  dazed,  Josef  clipped  and  scraped  me  till 
my  mustache  and  imperial  were  things  of  the  past 
and  my  face  was  as  bare  as  the  king's.  And  when 
Fritz  saw  me  thus  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  ex- 
claimed: 

"  By  Jove,  we  shall  do  it!  " 

It  was  six  o'clock  now,  and  we  had  no  time  to 
lose.  Sapt  hurried  me  into  the  king's  room,  and  I 
dressed  myself  in  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  of  the 
Guard,  finding  time,  as  I  slipped  on  the  king's 
boots,  to  ask  Sapt  what  he  had  done  with  the  old 
woman. 

"  She  swore  she'd  heard  nothing,"  said  he;  "  but 
to  make  sure  I  tied  her  legs  together  and  put  a 
handkerchief  in  her  mouth  and  bound  her  hands, 
and  locked  her  up  in  the  coal  cellar,  next  door  to 
the  king.  Josef  '11  look  after  them  both,  later  on." 

Then  I  burst  out  laughing,  and  even  old  Sapt 
grimly  smiled. 

"  I  fancy,"  said  he,  "  that  when  Josef  tells  them 


THE  KING  KEEPS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  51 

the  king  is  gone  they'll  think  it  is  because  we  smelt 
a  rat.  For  you  may  swear  Black  Michael  doesn't 
expect  to  see  him  in  Strelsau  to-day." 

I  put  the  king's  helmet  on  my  head.  Old  Sapt 
handed  me  the  king's  sword,  looking  at  me  long 
and  carefully. 

"Thank  God,  he  shaved  his  beard!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Why  did  he?  "  I  asked. 

"  Because  Princess  Flavia  said  he  grazed  her 
cheek  when  he  was  graciously  pleased  to  give  her  a 
cousinly  kiss.  Come,  though,  we  must  ride." 

"  Is  all  safe  here?  " 

"  Nothing's  safe  anywhere,"  said  Sapt,  "  but  we 
can  make  it  no  safer." 

Fritz  now  rejoined  us  in  the  uniform  of  a  captain 
in  the  same  regiment  as  that  to  which  my  dress  be- 
longed. In  four  minutes  Sapt  had  arrayed  himself 
in  his  uniform.  Josef  called  that  the  horses  were 
ready.  We  jumped  on  their  backs  and  started  at 
a  rapid  trot.  The  game  had  begun.  What  would 
the  issue  of  it  be? 

The  cool  morning  air  cleared  my  head,  and  I  was 


52  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

able  to  take  in  all  Sapt  said  to  me.  He  was  won- 
derful. Fritz  hardly  spoke,  riding  like  a  man 
asleep;  but  Sapt,  without  another  word  for  the  king, 
began  at  once  to  instruct  me  most  minutely  in  the 
history  of  my  past  life,  of  my  family,  of  my  tastes, 
pursuits,  weaknesses,  friends,  companions,  and 
servants.  He  told  me  the  etiquette  of  the  Ruri- 
tanian  court,  promising  to  be  constantly  at  my 
elbow  to  point  out  everybody  whom  I  ought  to 
know,  and  give  me  hints  with  what  degree  of  favor 
to  greet  them. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  Catholic,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  Not  I,"  I  answered. 

"  Lord,  he's  a  heretic!  "  groaned  Sapt,  and  forth- 
with he  fell  to  a  rudimentary  lesson  in  the  practices 
and  observances  of  the  Romish  faith. 

"  Luckily,"  said  he,  "  you  won't  be  expected  to 
know  much,  for  the  king's  notoriously  lax  and  care- 
less about  such  matters.  But  you  must  be  as  civil 
as  butter  to  the  cardinal.  We  hope  to  wrin  him 
over,  because  he  and  Michael  have  a  standing  quar- 
rel about  their  precedence." 


THE  KING  KEEPS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  53 

We  were  by  row  at  the  station.  Fritz  had  re- 
covered nerve  enough  to  explain  to  the  astonished 
station  master  that  the  king  had  changed  his  plans. 
The  train  steamed  up.  We  got  into  a  first-class 
carriage,  and  Sapt,  leaning  back  on  the  cushions, 
went  on  with  his  lesson.  I  looked  at  my  watch — 
the  king's  watch  it  was,  of  course.  It  was  just 
eight. 

"  I  wonder  if  they've  gone  to  look  for  us,"  I  said. 

"  I  hope  they  won't  find  the  king,"  said  Fritz 
nervously,  and  this  time  it  was  Sapt  who  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

The  train  traveled  well,  and  at  half-past  nine, 
looking  out  of  the  window,  I  saw  the  towers  and 
spires  of  a  great  city. 

"  Your  capital,  my  liege,"  grinned  old  Sapt,  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand,  and,  leaning  forward,  he  laid  his 
finger  on  my  pulse.  "  A  little  too  quick,"  said  he 
in  his  grumbling  tone. 

"  I'm  not  made  of  stone!  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  You'll  do,"  said  he,  with  a  nod.  "  We  must 
lay  Fritz  here  has  caught  the  ague.  Drain  your 
flask,  Fritz,  for  Heaven's  sake,  boy!  " 


54  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

Fritz  did  as  he  was  bid. 

"  We're  an  hour  early,"  said  Sapt.  "  We'll  send 
word  forward  of  your  Majesty's  arrival,  for  there'll 
be  no  one  here  to  meet  us  yet.  And  mean- 
while  " 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  I,  "  the  king  '11  be  hanged  if 
he  doesn't  have  some  breakfast." 

Old  Sapt  chuckled,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  You're  an  Elphberg,  every  inch  of  you,"  said 
he.  Then  he  paused,  and  looking  at  us,  said 
quietly,  "  God  send  we  may  be  alive  to-night!  " 

"  Amen!  "  said  Fritz  von  Taflenheim. 

The  train  stopped.  Fritz  and  Sapt  leaped  out, 
uncovered,  and  held  the  door  fof  me.  I  choked 
down  a  lump  that  rose  in  my  throat,  settled  my 
helmet  firmly  on  my  head,  and  (I'm  not  ashamed 
to  say  it)  breathed  a  short  prayer  to  God.  Then  I 
stepped  on  the  platform  of  the  station  at  Strelsau. 

A  moment  later  all  was  bustle  and  confusion: 
men  hurrying  up,  hats  in  hand,  and  hurrying  off 
again;  men  conducting  me  to  the  buffet;  men 
mounting  and  riding  in  hot  haste  to  the  quarters 
of  the  troops,  to  the  cathedral,  to  the  residence  of 


THE  KING  KEEPS  HIS  APPOINTMENT.  55 

Duke  Michael.  Even  as  I  swallowed  the  last  drop 
of  my  cup  of  coffee  the  bells  throughout  all  the 
city  broke  out  into  a  joyful  peal,  and  the  sound  of 
a  military  band  and  of  men  cheering  smote  upon 
my  ear. 

King  Rudolf  the  Fifth  was  in  his  good  city  of 
Strelsau!  And  they  shouted  outside: 

"  God  save  the  king!  " 

Old  Sapt's  mouth  wrinkled  into  a  smile. 

"  God  save  'em  both!  "  he  whispered.  "  Cour- 
age, lad!  "  and  I  felt  his  hand  press  my  knee. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY. 

WITH  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  and  Colonel  Sapt 
close  behind  me  I  stepped  out  of  the  buffet  on  to 
the  platform.  The  last  thing  I  clid  was  to  feel  if 
my  revolver  were  handy  and  my  s\vord  loose  in  the 
scabbard.  A  gay  group  of  officers  and  high  dig- 
nitaries stood  waiting  me,  at  their  head  a  tall  old 
man,  covered  with  medals,  and  of  military  bearing. 
He  wore  the  yellow  and  red  ribbon  of  the  Red 
Rose  of  Ruritania — which,  by  the  way,  decorated 
my  unworthv  breast  also. 

"  Marshal  Strakencz,"  whispered  Sapt,  and  I 
knew  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  the  most  famous 
veteran  of  the  Ruritanian  army. 

Just  behind  the  marshal  stood  a  short,  spare 
man,  in  flowing  robes  of  black  and  crimson. 

"  The  chancellor  of  the  kingdom,"  whispered 
Sapt. 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY.         57 

The  marshal  greeted  me  in  a  few  loyal  words, 
and  proceeded  to  deliver  an  apology  from  the 
Duke  of  Strelsau.  The  duke,  it  seemed,  had  been 
afflicted  with  a  sudden  indisposition  which  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  come  to  the  station,  but  he 
craved  leave  to  await  his  Majesty  at  the  cathedral. 
I  expressed  my  concern,  accepted  the  marshal's 
excuses  very  suavely,  and  received  the  compli- 
ments of  a  large  number  of  distinguished  person- 
ages. No  one  betrayed  the  least  suspicion,  and  I 
felt  my  nerve  returning  and  the  agitated  beating  of 
my  heart  subsiding.  But  Fritz  was  still  pale,  and 
his  hand  shook  like  a  leaf  as  he  extended  it  to  the 
marshal. 

Presently  we  formed  procession  and  took  our 
way  to  the  door  of  the  station.  Here  I  mounted 
my  horse,  the  marshal  holding  my  stirrup.  The 
civil  dignitaries  went  off  to  their  carriages,  and  I 
started  to  ride  through  the  streets  with  the  marshal 
on  my  right  and  Sapt  (who,  as  my  chief  aid-de- 
camp, was  entitled  to  the  place)  on  my  left.  The 
city  of  Strelsau  is  partly  old  and  partly  new.  Spa- 
cious modern  boulevards  and  residential  quarters 


58  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

surround  and  embrace  the  narrow,  tortuous,  and 
picturesque  streets  of  the  original  town.  In  the 
outer  circles  the  upper  classes  live;  in  the  inner  the 
shops  are  situated;  and  behind  their  prosperous 
fronts  lie  hidden  populous  but  wretched  lanes  and 
alleys,  filled  with  a  poverty-stricken,  turbulent,  and 
(in  large  measure)  criminal  class.  These  social 
and  local  divisions  corresponded,  as  I  knew  from 
Sapt's  information,  to  another  division  more  im- 
portant to  me.  The  New  Town  was  for  the  king; 
but  to  the  Old  Town  Michael  of  Strelsau  was  a 
hope,  a  hero,  and  a  darling. 

The  scene  was  very  brilliant  as  we  passed  along 
the  Grand  Boulevard  and  on  to  the  great  square 
where  the  royal  palace  stood.  Here  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  my  devoted  adherents.  Every  house  was 
hung  with  red  and  bedecked  with  flags  and  mot- 
toes. The  streets  were  lined  with  raised  seats  on 
each  side,  and  I  passed  along,  bowing  this  way  and 
that,  under  a  shower  of  cheers,  blessings,  and  wav- 
ing handkerchiefs.  The  balconies  were  full  of 
gayly  dressed  ladies,  who  clapped  their  hands  and 
courtesied  and  threw  their  brightest  glances  at  me. 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  AN   UNDERSTUDY.         59 

A  torrent  of  red  roses  fell  on  me ;  one  bloom  lodged 
in  my  horse's  mane,  and  I  took  it  and  stuck  it  in 
my  coat.  The  marshal  smiled  grimly.  I  had 
stolen  some  glances  at  his  face,  but  he  was  too  im- 
passive to  show  me  whether  his  sympathies  were 
with  me  or  not. 

"  The  red  rose  for  the  Elphbergs,  marshal,"  said 
I  gayly,  and  he  nodded. 

I  have  written  "  gayly,"  and  a  strange  word  it 
must  seem.  But  the  truth  is  that  I  was  drunk  with 
excitement.  At  that  moment  I  believed — I  al- 
most believed — that  I  was  in  very  truth  the  king; 
and,  with  a  look  of  laughing  triumph,  I  raised  my 
eyes  to  the  beauty-laden  balconies  again  .  .  .  and 
then  I  started.  For  looking  down  on  me,  with  her 
handsome  face  and  proud  smile,  was  the  lady  who 
had  been  my  fellow-traveler — Antoinette  de  Mau- 
ban;  and  I  saw  her  also  start,  and  her  lips  moved, 
and  she  leaned  forward  and  gazed  at  me.  And  I, 
collecting  myself,  met  her  eyes  full  and  square, 
while  again  I  felt  my  revolver.  Suppose  she  had 
cried  aloud,  "  That's  not  the  king!  " 

Well,  we  went  by;  and  then  the  marshal,  turn- 


60  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

ing  round  in  his  saddle,  waved  his  hand,  and  the 
Cuirassiers  closed  round  us,  so  that  the  crowd 
could  not  come  near  me.  We  were  leaving  my 
quarter  and  entering  Duke  Michael's,  and  this 
action  of  the  marshal's  showed  me  more  clearly 
than  words  what  the  state  of  feeling  in  the  town 
must  be.  But  if  Fate  made  me  a  king  the  least  I 
could  do  was  to  play  the  part  handsomely. 

"  Why  this  change  in  our  order,  marshal? " 
said  I. 

The  marshal  bit  his  white  mustache. 

"  It  is  more  prudent,  sire,"  he  murmured. 

I  drew  rein. 

"  Let  those  in  front  ride  on,"  said  I,  "  till  they 
are  fifty  yards  ahead.  But  do  you,  marshal,  and 
Colonel  Sapt  and  my  friends  wait  here  till  I  have 
ridden  fifty  yards.  And  see  that  no  one  is  nearer 
to  me.  I  will  have  my  people  see  that  their  king 
trusts  them." 

Sapt  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm.  I  shook  him  off. 
The  marshal  hesitated. 

"  Am  I  not  understood?  "  said  I;  and,  biting  his 
mustache  again,  he  gave  the  orders.  I  saw  old 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY.         61 

Sapt  smiling  into  his  beard,  but  he  shook  his  head 
at  me.  If  I  had  been  killed  in  open  day  in  the 
streets  of  Streslau  Sapt's  position  would  have  been 
a  difficult  one. 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that  I  was  dressed  all  in 
white,  except  my  boots.  I  wore  a  silver  helmet 
with  gilt  ornaments,  and  the  broad  ribbon  of  the 
Rose  looked  well  across  my  chest.  I  should  be 
paying  a  poor  compliment  to  the  king  if  I  did  not 
set  modesty  aside  and  admit  that  I  made  a  very 
fine  figure.  So  the  people  thought;  for  when  I, 
riding  alone,  entered  the  dingy,  sparsely  deco- 
rated, somber  streets  of  the  Old  Town  there  was 
first  a  murmur,  then  a  cheer,  and  a  woman,  from  a 
window  above  a  cookshop,  cried  the  old  local 
saying: 

"  If  he's  red  he's  right!  "  whereat  I  laughed  and 
took  off  my  helmet  that  she  might  see  that  I  was 
of  the  right  color,  and  they  cheered  me  again  at 
that. 

It  was  more  interesting  riding  thus  alone,  for  I 
heard  the  comments  of  the  crowd. 

"  He  looks  paler  than  his  wont,"  said  one. 


62  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

"  You'd  look  pale  if  you  lived  as  he  did,"  was 
the  highly  disrespectful  retort. 

"  He's  a  bigger  man  than  I  thought,"  said  an- 
other. 

"  So  he  had  a  good  jaw  under  that  beard  after 
all,"  commented  a  third. 

"  The  pictures  of  him  aren't  handsome  enough," 
declared  a  pretty  girl,  taking  great  care  that  I 
should  hear.  No  doubt  it  was  mere  flattery. 

But  in  spite  of  these  signs  of  approval  and 
interest  the  mass  of  the  people  received  me  in  si- 
lence and  with  sullen  looks,  and  my  dear  brother's 
portrait  ornamented  most  of  the  windows — which 
was  an  ironical  sort  of  greeting  to  the  king.  I  was 
quite  glad  that  he  had  been  spared  the  unpleasant 
sight.  He  was  a  man  of  quick  temper,  and  per- 
haps he  would  not  have  taken  it  so  placidly  as  I 
did. 

At  last  we  were  at  the  cathedral.  Its  great  gray 
front,  embellished  with  hundreds  of  statues  and 
boasting  a  pair  of  the  finest  oak  doors  in  Europe, 
rose  for  the  first  time  before  me,  and  the  sudden 
sense  of  my  audacity  almost  overcame  me.  Every- 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY.         63 

thing  was  in  a  mist  as  I  dismounted.  I  saw  the 
marshal  and  Sapt  dimly,  and  dimly  the  throng  of 
gorgeously  robed  priests  who  awaited  me.  And 
my  eyes  were  still  dim  as  I  walked  up  the  great 
nave,  with  the  pealing  of  the  organ  in  my  ears.  I 
saw  nothing  of  the  brilliant  throng  that  rilled  it;  I 
hardly  distinguished  the  stately  figure  of  the  cardi- 
nal as  he  rose  from  the  archiepiscopal  throne  to 
greet  me.  Two  faces  only  stood  out  side  by  side 
clearly  before  my  eyes — the  face  of  a  girl,  pale  and 
lovely,  surmounted  by  a  crown  of  the  glorious 
Elphberg  hair  (for  in  a  woman  it  is  glorious),  and 
the  face  of  a  man  whose  full-blooded  red  cheeks, 
black  hair,  and  dark,  deep  eyes  told  me  that  at  last 
I  was  in  the  presence  of  my  brother,  Black  Michael, 
And  when  he  saw  me  his  red  cheeks  went  pale  all 
in  a  moment,  and  his  helmet  fell  with  a  clatter  on 
the  floor.  Till  that  moment  I  believe  that  he  had 
not  realized  that  the  king  was  in  very  truth  come 
to  Strelsau. 

Of  what  followed  next  I  remember  nothing.  I 
knelt  before  the  altar  and  the  cardinal  anointed  my 
head.  Then  I  rose  to  my  feet,  and  stretched  out 


64  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

my  hand  and  took  from  him  the  crown  of  Ruritania 
and  set  it  on  my  head,  and  I  swore  the  old  oath  of 
the  king;  and  (if  it  were  a  sin,  may  it  be  forgiven 
me)  I  received  the  Holy  Sacrament  there  before 
them  all.  Then  the  great  organ  pealed  out  again, 
the  marshal  bade  the  heralds  proclaim  me,  and  Ru- 
dolf the  Fifth  was  crowned  king;  of  which  impos- 
ing ceremony  an  excellent  picture  hangs  now  in 
my  dining  room.  The  portrait  of  the  king  is  very 
good. 

Then  the  lady  with  the  pale  face  and  the  glorious 
hair,  her  train  held  by  two  pages,  stepped  from  her 
place  and  came  to  where  I  stood.  And  a  herald 
cried: 

"Her  Royal  Highness  the  Princess  Flavia!" 
She  courtesied  low,  and  put  her  hand  under 
mine  and  raised  my  hand  and  kissed  it.  And  for 
an  instant  I  thought  what  I  had  best  do.  Then  1 
drew  her  to  me  and  kissed  her  twice  on  the  cheek, 
and  she  blushed  red,  and — why,  then  his  Eminence 
the  Cardinal  Archbishop  slipped  in  front  of  Black 
Michael,  and  kissed  my  hand  and  presented  me 
with  a  letter  from  the  Pope — the  first  and  last 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY.          65 

which  I  have  ever  received  from  that  exalted 
quarter! 

And  then  came  the  Duke  of  Strelsau.  His  step 
trembled,  I  swear,  and  he  looked  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left,  as  a  man  looks  who  thinks  on  flight;  and 
his  face  was  patched  with  red  and  white,  and  his 
hand  shook  so  that  it  jumped  under  mine,  and  I 
felt  his  lips  dry  and  parched.  And  I  glanced  at 
Sapt,  who  was  smiling  again  into  his  beard,  and, 
resolutely  doing  my  duty  in  that  station  of  life  to 
which  I  had  been  marvelously  called,  I  took  my 
dear  Michael  by  both  hands  and  kissed  him  on  the 
cheek.  I  think  we  were  both  glad  when  that  was 
over! 

But  neither  in  the  face  of  the  princess  nor  in  that 
of  any  other  did  I  see  the  least  doubt  or  question- 
ing. Yet  had  I  and  the  king  stood  side  by  side 
they  could  have  told  us  in  an  instant,  or,  at  least, 
on  a  little  consideration.  But  neither  they  nor 
anyone  else  dreamed  or  imagined  that  I  could  be 
other  than  the  king.  So  the  likeness  served,  and 
for  an  hour  I  stood  there,  feeling  as  weary  and  blase 
as  though  I  had  been  a  king  all  my  life;  and  every- 


66  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

body  kissed  my  hand,  and  the  ambassadors  paid 
me  their  respects,  among  them  old  Lord  Topham, 
at  whose  house  in  Grosvenor  Square  I  had  danced 
a  score  of  times.  Thank  Heaven,  the  old  man  was 
as  blind  as  a  bat,  and  did  not  claim  my  acquaint- 
ance. 

Then  back  we  went  through  the  streets  to  the 
palace,  and  I  heard  them  cheering  Black  Michael; 
but  he,  Fritz  told  me,  sat  biting  his  nails  like  a  man 
in  a  reverie,  and  even  his  own  friends  said  that  he 
should  have  made  a  braver  show.  I  was  in  a  car- 
riage now,  side  by  side  with  the  princess  Flavia, 
and  a  rough  fellow  cried  out: 

"  And  when's  the  wedding?  "  and  as  he  spoke 
another  struck  him  in  the  face,  crying,  "  Long  live 
Duke  Michael!  "  and  the  princess  colored — it  was 
an  admirable  tint — and  looked  straight  in  front  of 
her. 

Now  I  felt  in  a  difficulty,  because  I  had  forgot- 
ten to  ask  Sapt  the  state  of  my  affections,  or  how 
far  matters  had  gone  between  the  princess  and  my- 
self. Frankly,  had  I  been  the  king  the  further  they 
had  gone  the  better  should  I  have  been  pleased. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  UNDERSTUDY.         67 

For  I  am  not  a  slow-blooded  man,  and  I  had  not 
kissed  Princess  Flavia's  cheek  for  nothing.  These 
thoughts  passed  through  my  head,  but,  not  being 
sure  of  my  ground,  I  said  nothing;  and  in  a  mo- 
ment or  two  the  princess,  recovering  her  equa- 
nimity, turned  to  me. 

"  Do  you  know,  Rudolf,"  said  she,  "  you  look 
somehow  different  to-day?  " 

The  fact  was  not  surprising,  but  the  remark  was 
disquieting. 

"  You  look,"  she  went  on,  "  more  sober,  more 
sedate;  you're  almost  careworn,  and  I  declare 
you're  thinner.  Surely  it's  not  possible  that 
you've  begun  to  take  anything  seriously?  " 

The  princess  seemed  to  hold  of  the  king  much 
the  same  opinion  that  Lady  Burlesdon  held  of 
mfe. 

I  braced  myself  up  to  the  conversation. 

"  Would  that  please  you?  "  I  asked  softly. 

"  Oh,  you  know  my  views,"  said  she,  turning  her 
eyes  away. 

"  Whatever  pleases  you  I  try  to  do,"  I  said ;  and 
as  I  saw  her  smile  and  blush  I  thought  that  I  was 


68  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

playing  the  king's  hand  very  well  for  him.  So  I 
continued,  and  what  I  said  was  perfectly  true: 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  cousin,  that  nothing  in 
my  life  has  affected  me  more  than  the  reception 
I've  been  greeted  with  to-day." 

She  smiled  brightly,  but  in  an  instant  grew  grave 
again,  and  whispered: 

"Did  you  notice  Michael?" 

"Yes,"  said  I;  adding,  "He  wasn't  enjoying 
himself." 

"Do  be  careful!"  she  went  on.  "You  don't 
— indeed  you  don't — keep  enough  watch  on  him. 
You  know " 

"  I  know,"  said  I,  "  that  he  wants  what  I've 
got." 

"Yes.     Hush!" 

Then — and  I  can't  justify  it,  for  I  committed  the 
king  far  beyond  what  I  had  a  right  to  do — I  sup- 
pose she  carried  me  off  my  feet — I  went  on: 

"  And,  perhaps,  also  something  which  I  haven't 
got  yet,  but  hope  to  win  some  day." 

This  was  my  answer — had  I  been  the  king  I 
should  have  thought  it  encouraging: 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  AN   UNDERSTUDY.          69 

"  Haven't  you  enough  responsibilities  on  you 
for  one  day,  cousin?  " 

Bang,  bang!  Blare,  blare!  We  were  at  the 
palace.  Guns  were  firing  and  trumpets  blowing. 
Rows  of  lackeys  stood  waiting,  and,  handing  the 
princess  up  the  broad  marble  staircase,  I  took  for- 
mal possession,  as  a  crowned  king,  of  the  house  of 
my  ancestors,  and  sat  down  at  my  own  table,  with 
my  cousin  on  my  right  hand,  on  her  other  side 
Black  Michael,  and  on  my  left  his  Eminence  the 
Cardinal.  Behind  my  chair  stood  Sapt;  and  at  the 
end  of  the  table  I  saw  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  drain 
to  the  bottom  his  glass  of  champagne  rather 
sooner  than  he  decently  should. 

I  wondered  what  the  King  of  Ruritania  was 
doing. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    SECRET    OF    A    CELLAR. 

WE  were  in  the  king's  dressing  room — Fritz  von 
Tarlenheim,  Sapt,  and  I.  I  flung  myself  ex- 
hausted into  an  armchair.  Sapt  lit  his  pipe.  He 
uttered  no  congratulations  on  the  marvelous  suc- 
cess of  our  wild  risk,  but  his  whole  bearing  was  elo- 
quent of  satisfaction.  The  triumph,  aided  perhaps 
by  good  wine,  had  made  a  new  man  of  Fritz. 

"  What  a  day  for  you  to  remember!  "  he  cried. 
"  Gad,  I'd  like  to  be  a  king  for  twelve  hours  my- 
self! But,  Rassendyll,  you  mustn't  throw  your 
heart  too  much  into  the  part.  I  don't  wonder 
Black  Michael  looked  blacker  than  ever — you  and 
the  princess  had  so  much  to  say  to  one  another." 

"  How  beautiful  she  is!  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Never  mind  the  woman,"  growled  Sapt. 
"  Are  you  ready  to  start?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  with  a  sigh. 

It  was  five  o'clock,  and  at  twelve  I  should  be  no 


THE  SECRET  OF  A   CELLAR.  71 

more  than  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  I  remarked  on  it 
in  a  joking  tone. 

"  You'll  be  lucky,"  observed  Sapt  grimly,  "  if 
you're  not  the  late  Rudolf  Rassendyll.  By 
Heaven!  I  feel  my  head  wobbling  on  my  shoul- 
ders every  minute  you're  in  the  city.  Do  you 
know,  friend,  that  Michael  has  had  news  from 
Zenda?  He  went  into  a  room  alone  to  read  it — 
and  he  came  out  looking  like  a  man  dazed." 

"  I'm  ready,"  said  I,  this  news  making  me  none 
the  more  eager  to  linger. 

Sapt  sat  down. 

"  I  must  write  us  an  order  to  leave  the  city. 
Michael's  governor,  you  know,  and  we  must  be 
prepared  for  hindrances.  You  must  sign  the 
order." 

"  My  dear  colonel,  I've  not  been  bred  a  forger!  " 

Out  of  his  pocket  Sapt  produced  a  piece  of 
paper. 

'  There's  the  king's  signature,"  he  said,  "  and 
here,"  he  went  on,  after  another  search  in  his 
pocket,  "  is  some  tracing  paper.  If  you  can't  man- 
age a  '  Rudolf '  in  ten  minutes,  why — I  can." 


72  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEKDA. 

"  Your  education  has  been  more  comprehensive 
than  mine,"  said  I.  "  You  write  it." 

And  a  very  tolerable  forgery  did  this  versatile 
hero  produce. 

"  Now,  Fritz,"  said  he,  "  the  king  goes  to  bed. 
He  is  upset.  No  one  is  to  see  him  till  nine  o'clock 
to-morrow.  You  understand — no  one?  " 

"  I  understand,"  answered  Fritz. 

"  Michael  may  come,  and  claim  immediate  au- 
dience. You'll  answer  that  only  princes  of  the 
blood  are  entitled  to  it." 

"  That  '11  annoy  Michael,"  laughed  Fritz. 

"  You  quite  understand? "  asked  Sapt  again. 
"  If  the  door  of  this  room  is  opened  while  we're 
away  you're  not  to  be  alive  to  tell  us  about  it." 

"  I  need  no  schooling,  colonel,"  said  Fritz,  a 
trifle  haughtily. 

"  Here,  wrap  yourself  in  this  big  cloak,"  Sapt 
continued  to  me,  "  and  put  on  this  flat  cap.  My 
orderly  rides  with  me  to  the  shooting  lodge  to- 
night." 

"  There's  an  obstacle,"  I  observed.  '  The  horse 
doesn't  live  that  can  carry  me  forty  miles." 


THE  SECRET  OF  A  CELLAR.  73 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  does — two  of  him:  one  here — one 
at  the  lodge.  Now  are  you  ready?  " 

"  I'm  ready,"  said  I. 

Fritz  held  out  his  hand. 

"  In  case,"  said  he;  and  we  shook  hands  heartily. 

"Damn  your  sentiment!"  growled  Sapt. 
"  Come  along." 

He  went,  not  to  the  door,  but  to  a  panel  in  the 
wall. 

"  In  the  old  king's  time,"  said  he,  "  I  knew  this 
way  well." 

I  followed  him,  and  we  walked,  as  I  should  esti- 
mate, near  two  hundred  yards  along  a  narrow  pass- 
age. Then  we  came  to  a  stout  oak  door.  Sapt 
unlocked  it.  We  passed  through,  and  found  our- 
selves in  a  quiet  street  that  ran  along  the  back  of 
the  palace  gardens.  A  man  was  waiting  for  us 
with  two  horses.  One  was  a  magnificent  bay,  up 
to  any  weight;  the  other  a  sturdy  brown.  Sapt 
signed  to  me  to  mount  the  bay.  Without  a  word 
to  the  man  we  mounted  and  rode  away.  The  town 
was  full  of  noise  and  merriment,  but  we  took  se- 
cluded ways.  My  cloak  was  wrapped  over  half  my 


74  THE  PRISONER    OF  ZEN  DA. 

face;  the  capacious  flat  cap  hid  every  lock  of  my 
telltale  hair.  By  Sapt's  directions  I  crouched  on 
my  saddle,  and  rode  with  such  a  round  back  as  I 
hope  never  to  exhibit  on  a  horse  again.  Down  a 
long,  narrow  lane  we  went,  meeting  some  wan- 
derers and  some  roisterers;  and  as  we  rode  we 
heard  the  cathedral  bells  still  clanging  out  their 
welcome  to  the  king.  It  was  half-past  six,  and  still 
light.  At  last  we  came  to  the  city  wall  and  to  a 
gate. 

"  Have  your  weapon  ready,"  whispered  Sapt. 
"  We  must  stop  his  mouth  if  he  talks." 

I  put  my  hand  on  my  revolver.  Sapt  hailed  the 
doorkeeper.  The  stars  fought  for  us!  A  little 
girl  of  fourteen  tripped  out. 

"  Please,  sir,  father's  gone  to  see  the  king." 

"  He'd  better  have  stayed  here,"  said  Sapt  to 
me,  grinning. 

"  But  he  said  I  wasn't  to  open  the  gate,  sir." 

"  Did  he,  my  dear?  "  said  Sapt,  dismounting. 
'  Then  give  me  the  key." 

The  key  was  in  the  child's  hand.  Sapt  gave  her 
a  crown. 


THE  SECRET  OF  A   CELLAR.  75 

"  Here's  an  order  from  the  king.  Show  it  to 
your  father.  Orderly,  open  the  gate!  " 

I  leaped  down.  Between  us  we  rolled  back  the 
great  gate,  led  our  horses  out,  and  closed  it  again. 

"  I  shall  be  sorry  for  the  doorkeeper  if  Michael 
finds  out  that  he  wasn't  there.  Now,  then,  lad,  for 
a  canter.  We  mustn't  go  too  fast  while  we're  near 
the  town." 

Once,  however,  outside  the  city  we  ran  little 
danger,  for  everybody  else  was  inside,  merry-mak-- 
ing;  and  as  the  evening  fell  we  quickened  our  pace, 
my  splendid  horse  bounding  along  under  me  as 
though  I  had  been  a  feather.  It  was  a  fine  night, 
and  presently  the  moon  appeared.  We  talked 
little  on  the  way,  and  chiefly  about  the  progress  we 
were  making. 

"  I  wonder  what  the  duke's  dispatches  told 
him!  "  said  I,  once. 

"  Aye,  I  wonder!  "  responded  Sapt. 

We  stopped  for  a  draught  of  wine  and  to  bait 
our  horses,  losing  half  an  hour  thus.  I  dared  hot 
go  into  the  inn,  and  stayed  with  the  horses  in  the 
stable.  Then  we  went  ahead  again,  and  had  cov- 


76  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDsf. 

ered  some  five-and-twenty  miles  when  Sapt 
abruptly  stopped. 

"Hark!  "he  cried. 

I  listened.  Away,  far  behind  us,  in  the  still  of 
the  evening — it  was  just  half-past  nine — we  heard 
the  beat  of  horses'  hoofs.  The  wind,  blowing 
strong  behind  us,  carried  the  sound.  I  glanced  at 
Sapt. 

"  Come  on !  "  he  cried,  and  spurred  his  horse 
into  a  gallop.  When  we  next  paused  to  listen  the 
hoof-beats  were  not  audible,  and  we  relaxed  our 
pace.  Then  we  heard  them  again.  Sapt  jumped 
down  and  laid  his  ear  to  the  ground. 

"  There  are  two,"  he  said.  "  They're  only  a 
mile  behind.  Thank  God,  the  road  curves  in  and 
out,  and  the  wind's  our  way." 

We  galloped  on.  We  seemed  to  be  holding  our 
own.  We  had  entered  the  outskirts  of  the  forest 
of  Zenda,  and  the  trees,  closing  in  behind  us  as  the 
track  zigged  and  zagged,  prevented  us  seeing  our 
pursuers,  and  them  from  seeing  us. 

Another  half  hour  brought  us  to  a  divide  of  the 
road.  Sapt  drew  rein. 


THE  SECRET  OF  A  CELLAR.  77 

"  To  the  right  is  our  road,"  he  said.  "  To  left, 
to  the  castle.  Each  about  eight  miles.  Get 
down." 

"  But  they'll  be  on  us!  "  I  cried. 

"Get  down!"  he  repeated  brusquely;  and  I 
obeyed. 

The  wood  was  dense  up  to  the  very  edge  of  the 
road.  We  led  our  horses  into  the  covert,  bound 
handkerchiefs  over  their  eyes,  and  stood  beside 
them. 

"  You  want  to  see  who  they  are?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Aye,  and  where  they're  going,"  he  answered. 

I  saw  that  his  revolver  was  in  his  hand. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  hoofs.  The  moon 
shone  out  now  clear  and  full,  so  that  the  road  was 
white  with  it.  The  ground  was  hard  and  we  had 
left  no  traces. 

"  Here  they  come!  "  whispered  Sapt. 

"It's  the  duke!" 

"  I  thought  so!  "  he  answered. 

It  was  the  duke;  and  with  him  a  burly  fellow 
whom  I  knew  well,  and  who  had  cause  to  know  me 
afterward — Max  Holf,  brother  to  Johann  the 


7$  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

keeper,  and  body  servant  to  his  Highness.  They 
were  up  to  us;  the  duke  reined  up.  I  saw  Sapt's 
finger  curl  lovingly  toward  the  trigger.  I  believe 
he  would  have  given  ten  years  of  his  life  for  a  shot ; 
and  he  could  have  picked  off  Black  Michael  as 
easily  as  I  could  a  barn-door  fowl  in  a  farmyard. 
I  laid  my  hand  on  his  arm.  He  nodded  reassur- 
ingly; he  was  always  ready  to  sacrifice  inclination 
to  duty. 

"  Which  way?  "  asked  Black  Michael. 

'  To  the  castle,  your  Highness,"  urged  his  com- 
panion. "  There  we  shall  learn  the  truth." 

For  an  instant  the  duke  hesitated. 

'"  I  thought  I  heard  hoofs,"  said  he. 

"  I  think  not,  your  Highness." 

"  Why  shouldn't  we  go  to  the  lodge?  " 

"  I  fear  a  trap.  If  all  is  well,  why  go  to  the 
lodge?  If  not,  it's  a  snare  to  trap  us." 

Suddenly  the  duke's  horse  neighed.  In  an  in- 
stant we  folded  our  cloaks  close  round  our  horses' 
heads,  and,  holding  them  thus,  covered  the  duke 
and  his  attendant  with  our  revolvers.  If  they  had 
found  us  they  had  been  dead  men,  or  our  prisoners. 


THE  SECRET  OF  A   CELLAR.  79 

Michael  waited  a  moment  longer.  Then  he 
cried: 

"To  Zenda,  then!"  and  setting  spurs  to  his 
horse,  galloped  on. 

Sapt  raised  his  weapon  after  him,  and  there  was 
such  an  expression  of  wistful  regret  on  his  face  that 
I  had  much  ado  not  to  burst  out  laughing. 

For  ten  minutes  we  stayed  where  we  were. 

'  You  see,"  said  Sapt,  "  they've  sent  him  news 
that  all  is  well." 

"  What  does  that  mean?  "  I  asked. 

"  God  knows,"  said  Sapt,  frowning  heavily. 
"  But  it's  brought  him  from  Strelsau  in  a  rare 
puzzle." 

Then  we  mounted,  and  rode  fast  as  our  weary 
horses  could  lay  their  feet  to  the  ground.  For 
those  last  eight  miles  we  spoke  no  more.  Our 
minds  were  full  of  apprehension.  "  All  is  well." 
What  did  it  mean?  Was  all  well  with  the 
king? 

At  last  the  lodge  came  in  sight.  Spurring  our 
horses  to  a  last  gallop,  we  rode  up  to  the  gate.  All 
was  still  and  quiet.  Not  a  soul  came  to  meet  us. 


8o  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

We  dismounted  in  haste.  Suddenly  Sapt  caught 
me  by  the  arm. 

"  Look  here!  "  he  said,  pointing  to  the  ground. 

I  looked  down.  At  my  feet  lay  five  or  six  silk 
handkerchiefs,  torn  and  slashed  and  rent.  I  turned 
to  him  questioningly. 

"  They're  what  I  tied  the  old  woman  up  with," 
said  he.  "  Fasten  the  horses  and  come  along." 

The  handle  of  the  door  turned  without  resist- 
ance. We  passed  into  the  room  which  had  been 
the  scene  of  last  night's  bout.  It  was  still  strewn 
with  the  remnants  of  our  meal  and  with  empty 
bottles. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  Sapt,  whose  marvelous  com- 
posure had  at  last  almost  given  way. 

We  rushed  down  the  passage  toward  the  cellars. 
The  door  of  the  coal  cellar  stood  wide  open. 

"  They  found  the  old  woman,"  said  I. 

"  You  might  have  known  that  from  the  hand- 
kerchiefs," he  said. 

Then  we  came  opposite  the  door  of  the  wine 
cellar.  It  was  shut.  It  looked  in  all  respects  as  it 
had  looked  when  we  left  it  that  morning. 


THE  SECRET  OF  A   CELLAR.  81 

"  Come,  it's  all  right,"  said  I. 

A  loud  oath  from  Sapt  rang  out.  His  face 
turned  pale,  and  he  pointed  again  at  the  floor. 
From  under  the  door  a  red  stain  had  spread  over 
the  floor  of  the  passage  and  dried  there.  Sapt 
sank  against  the  opposite  wall.  I  tried  the  door. 
It  was  locked. 

"  Where's  Josef?  "  muttered  Sapt. 

"  Where's  the  king?  "  I  responded. 

Sapt  took  out  a  flask  and  put  it  to  his  lips.  I 
ran  back  to  the  dining  room,  and  seized  a  heavy 
poker  from  the  fireplace.  In  my  terror  and  ex- 
citement I  rained  blows  on  the  lock  of  the  door, 
and  I  fired  a  cartridge  into  it.  It  gave  way,  and 
the  door  swung  open. 

"  Give  me  a  light,"  said  I;  but  Sapt  still  leaned 
against  the  wall. 

He  was,  of  course,  more  moved  than  I,  for  he 
loved  his  master.  Afraid  for  himself  he  was  not — 
no  man  ever  saw  him  that;  but  to  think  what  might 
lie  in  that  dark  cellar  was  enough  to  turn  any  man's 
face  pale.  I  went  myself,  and  took  a  silver  candle- 
stick from  the  dining  table  and  struck  a  light,  and 


82  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDJ. 

as  I  returned  I  felt  the  hot  wax  drip  on  my  naked 
hand  as  the  candle  swayed  to  and  fro;  so  that  I  can- 
not afford  to  despise  Colonel  Sapt  for  his  agitation. 

I  came  to  the  door  of  the  cellar.  The  red  stain, 
turning  more  and  more  to  a  dull  brown,  stretched 
inside.  I  walked  two  yards  into  the  cellar,  and 
held  the  candle  high  above  my  head.  I  saw  the 
full  bins  of  wine;  I  saw  spiders  crawling  on  the 
walls;  I  saw,  too,  a  couple  of  empty  bottles  lying  on 
the  floor;  and  then,  away  in  the  corner,  I  saw  the 
body  of  a  man,  lying  flat  on  his  back,  with  his  arms 
stretched  wide,  and  a  crimson  gash  across  his 
throat.  I  walked  to  him  and  knelt  down  beside 
him,  and  commended  to  God  the  soul  of  a  faith- 
ful man.  For  it  was  the  body  of  Josef,  the  little 
servant,  slain  in  guarding  the  king. 

I  felt  a  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  turning,  saw 
Sapt's  eyes,  glaring  and  terror-struck,  beside  me. 

'  The  king!  My  God!  the  king!  "  he  whispered 
hoarsely. 

I  threw  the  candle's  gleam  over  every  inch  of  the 
cellar. 

"'  The  king  is  not  here,"  said  I. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN   STRELSAU. 

I  PUT  my  arm  round  Sapt's  waist  and  supported 
him  out  of  the  cellar,  drawing  the  battered  door 
close  after  me.  For  ten  minutes  or  more  we  sat 
silent  in  the  dining  room.  Then  old  Sapt  rubbed 
his  knuckles  into  his  eyes,  gave  one  great  gasp,  and 
was  himself  again.  As  the  clock  on  the  mantel- 
piece struck  one  he  stamped  his  foot  on  the  floor, 
saying: 

"They've  got  the  king!" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  '  all's  well! '  as  Black  Michael's 
dispatch  said.  What  a  moment  it  must  have  been 
for  him  when  the  royal  salutes  were  fired  at  Strel- 
sau  this  morning!  I  wonder  when  he  got  the 
message?  " 

"  It  must  have  been  sent  in  the  morning,"  said 
Sapt.  '  They  must  have  sent  it  before  news  of 
your  arrival  at  Strelsau  reached  Zenda — I  suppose 

it  came  from  Zenda." 

83 


84  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

"  And  he's  carried  it  about  all  day!  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  Upon  my  honor,  I'm  not  the  only  man  who's  had 
a  trying  day!  What  did  he  think,  Sapt?  " 

"  What  does  that  matter?  What  does  he  think, 
lad,  now?  " 

I  rose  to  my  feet. 

"  We  must  get  back,"  I  said,  "  and  rouse  every 
soldier  in  Strelsau.  We  ought  to  be  in  pursuit  of 
Michael  before  midday." 

Old  Sapt  pulled  out  his  pipe  and  carefully  lit  it 
from  the  candle  which  guttered  on  the  table. 

"  The  king  may  be  murdered  while  we  sit  here!  " 
I  urged. 

Sapt  smoked  on  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

'  That  cursed  old  woman!  "  he  broke  out.  "  She 
must  have  attracted  their  attention  somehow.  I 
see  the  game.  They  came  up  to  kidnap  the  king, 
and — as  I  say — somehow  they  found  him.  If  you 
hadn't  gone  to  Strelsau,  you  and  I  and  Fritz  had 
been  in  heaven  by  now!  " 

"  And  the  king?  " 

"  Who  knows  where  the  king  is  now?  "  he  asked. 

"Come,  let's  be  off!"  said  I;  but  he  sat  still. 


HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN  STRELSAU.  85 

And  suddenly  he  burst  into  one  of  his  grating 
chuckles: 

"  By  Jove,  we've  shaken  up  Black  Michael!  " 

"Come,  come!"  I  repeated  impatiently. 

"  And  we'll  shake  him  up  a  bit  more,"  he  added, 
a  cunning  smile  broadening  on  his  wrinkled, 
weather-beaten  face  and  his  teeth  working  on  an 
end  of  his  grizzled  mustache.  "  Aye,  lad,  we'll  go 
back  to  Strelsau.  The  king  shall  be  in  his  capital 
again  to-morrow." 

"  The  king?  " 

"  The  crowned  king!  " 

"You're  mad!  "I  cried. 

"  If  we  go  back  and  tell  the  trick  we  played  what 
would  you  give  for  our  lives?  " 

"  Just  what  they're  worth,"  said  I. 

"  And  for  the  king's  throne?  Do  you  think  that 
the  nobles  and  the  people  will  enjoy  being  fooled 
as  you've  fooled  them?  Do  you  think  they'll  love 
a  king  who  was  too  drunk  to  be  crowned,  and  sent 
a  servant  to  personate  him?  " 

"  He  was  drugged — and  I'm  no  servant." 

"  Mine  will  be  Black  Michael's  version." 


86  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

He  rose,  came  to  me,  and  laid  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder. 

"  Lad,"  he  said,  "  if  you  play  the  man  you  may 
save  the  king  yet.  Go  back  and  keep  his  throne 
warm  for  him." 

"  But  the  duke  knows — the  villains  he  has  em- 
ployed know 

"Aye,  but  they  can't  speak!"  roared  Sapt  in 
grim  triumph.  "  We've  got  'em!  How  can  they 
denounce  you  without  denouncing  themselves? 
'  This  is  not  the  king,  because  we  kidnaped  the 
king  and  murdered  his  servant.'  Can  they  say 
that?  " 

The  position  flashed  on  me.  Whether  Michael 
knew  me  or  not  he  could  not  speak.  Unless  he 
produced  the  king,  what  could  he  do?  And  if  he 
produced  the  king,  where  was  he?  For  a  moment 
I  was  carried  away  headlong;  but  in  an  instant  the 
difficulties  came  strong  upon  me. 

"  I  must  be  found  out,"  I  urged. 

"  Perhaps;  but  every  hour's  something.  Above 
all,  we  must  have  a  king  in  Strelsau,  or  the  city  will 
be  Michael's  in  four-and-twenty  hours,  and  what 


HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN  STRELS4U.  87 

would  the  king's  life  be  worth  then — or  his  throne? 
Lad,  you  must  do  it!  " 

"  Suppose  they  kill  the  king?  " 

"  They'll  kill  him,  if  you  don't." 

"  Sapt,  suppose  they  have  killed  the  king?  " 

"  Then,  by  Heaven,  you're  as  good  an  Elphberg 
as  Black  Michael,  and  you  shall  reign  in  Ruritania! 
But  I  don't  believe  they  have;  nor  will  they  kill  him 
if  you're  on  the  throne.  Will  they  kill  him  to  put 
you  in?  " 

It  was  a  wild  plan — wilder  even  and  more  hope- 
less than  the  trick  we  had  already  carried  through; 
but  as  I  listened  to  Sapt  I  saw  the  strong  points  in 
our  game.  And  then  I  was  a  young  man  and  I 
loved  action,  and  I  was  offered  such  a  hand  in  such 
a  game  as  perhaps  never  man  played  yet. 

"  I  shall  be  found  out,"  I  said. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Sapt.  "  Come!  to  Strelsau! 
We  shall  be  caught  like  rats  in  a  trap  if  we  stay 
here." 

"Sapt,"  I  cried,  "  I'll  try  it!" 

"Well  played!  "  said  he.  "  I  hope  they've  left 
us  the  horses.  I'll  go  and  see." 


88  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDJ. 

"  We  must  bury  that  poor  fellow,"  said  I. 

"  No  time,"  said  Sapt. 

"  I'll  do  it." 

"Hang  you!"  he  grinned.  "I  make  you  a 

king,  and Well,  do  it.  Go  and  fetch  him, 

while  I  look  to  the  horses.  He  can't  lie  very  deep, 
but  I  doubt  if  he'll  care  about  that.  Poor  little 
Josef!  He  was  an  honest  bit  of  a  man." 

He  went  out  and  I  went  to  the  cellar.  I  raised 
poor  Josef  in  my  arms  and  bore  him  into  the  pas- 
sage and  thence  toward  the  door  of  the  house. 
Just  inside  I  laid  him  down,  remembering  that  I 
must  find  spades  for  our  task.  At  this  instant  Sapt 
came  up. 

"The  horses  are  all  right;  there's  the  own 
brother  to  the  one  that  brought  you  here.  But 
you  may  save  yourself  that  job." 

"  I'll  not  go  before  he's  buried." 

"  Yes,  you  will." 

"  Not  I,  Colonel  Sapt;  not  for  all  Ruritania." 

"  You  fool!  "  said  he.     "  Come  here." 

He  drew  me  to  the  door.  The  moon  was  sink- 
ing, but  about  three  hundred  yards  away,  coming 


HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN  STR.ELSAU.  ^9 

along  the  road  from  Zenda,  I  made  out  a  party  of 
men.  There  were  seven  or  eight  of  them;  four 
were  on  horseback  and  the  rest  were  walking,  and 
I  saw  that  they  carried  long  implements,  which  I 
guessed  to  be  spades  and  mattocks,  on  their 
shoulders. 

'  Tjhey'll  save  you  the  trouble,"  said  Sapt. 
"  Come  along." 

He  was  right.  The  approaching  party  must,  be- 
yond doubt,  be  Duke  Michael's  men,  come  to 
remove  the  traces  of  their  evil  work.  I  hesitated 
no  longer,  but  an  irresistible  desire  seized  me. 
Pointing  to  the  corpse  of  poor  little  Josef,  I  said  to 
Sapt: 

"  Colonel,  we  ought  to  strike  a  blow  for  him!  " 

"  You'd  like  to  give  him  some  company,  eh? 
But  it's  too  risky  work,  your  Majesty." 

"  I  must  have  a  slap  at  'em,"  said  I. 

Sapt  wavered. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "it's  not  business,  you  know; 
but  you've  been  a  good  boy — and  if  we  come  to 
grief,  why,  hang  me,  it  '11  save  us  a  lot  of  thinking! 
I'll  show  you  how  to  touch  them." 


90  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

He  cautiously  closed  the  open  chink  of  the  door. 
Then  we  retreated  through  the  house  and  made  our 
way  to  the  back  entrance.  Here  our  horses  were 
standing.  A  carriage  drive  swept  all  around  the 
lodge. 

"  Revolver  ready?  "  asked  Sapt. 

"  No;  steel  for  me,"  said  I. 

"  Gad,  you're  thirsty  to-night,"  chuckled  Sapt. 
"  So  be  it." 

We  mounted,  drawing  our  swords,  and  wraited 
silently  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then  we  heard  the 
tramp  of  men  on  the  drive  the  other  side  of  the 
house.  They  came  to  a  stand,  and  one  cried: 

"  Now,  then,  fetch  him  out!  " 

"  Now!  "  whispered  Sapt. 

Driving  the  spurs  into  our  horses,  we  rushed  at  a 
gallop  round  the  house,  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
among  the  ruffians.  Sapt  told  me  afterward  that 
he  killed  a  man,  and  I  believe  him;  but  I  saw  no 
more  of  him.  With  a  cut  I  split  the  head  of  a  fel- 
low on  a  brown  horse,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground. 
Then  I  found  myself  opposite  a  big  man,  and  I  was 
half  conscious  of  another  to  my  right.  It  was  too 


HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN  STRELS/tU.  91 

warm  to  stay,  and  with  a  simultaneous  action  I 
drove  my  spurs  into  my  horse  again  and  my  sword 
full  into  the  big  man's  breast.  His  bullet  whizzed 
past  my  ear — I  could  almost  swear  it  touched  it.  I 
wrenched  at  the  sword,  but  it  would  not  come,  and 
I  dropped  it  and  galloped  after  Sapt,  whom  I  now 
saw  about  twenty  yards  ahead.  I  waved  my  hand 
in  farewell  and  dropped  it  a  second  later  with  a  yell, 
for  a  bullet  had  grazed  my  finger  and  I  felt  the 
blood.  Old  Sapt  turned  round  in  the  saddle. 
Someone  fired  again,  but  they  had  no  rifles,  and  we 
were  out  of  range.  Sapt  fell  to  laughing. 

'  That's  one  to  me  and  two  to  you,  with  decent 
luck,"  said  he.  "  Little  Josef  will  have  company." 

"  Aye,  they'll  be  a  parti  carrce,"  said  I.  My 
blood  was  up,  and  I  rejoiced  to  have  killed  them. 

"  Well,  a  pleasant  night's  work  to  the  rest!  "  said 
he.  "  I  wonder  if  they  noticed  you?  " 

"  The  big  fellow  did ;  as  I  struck  him  I  heard  him 
cry,  *  The  king! '  " 

"  Good!  good!  Oh,  we'll  give  Black  Michael 
some  work  before  we've  done!  " 

Pausing  an  instant,  we  made  a  bandage  for  my 


92  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

wounded  finger,  which  was  bleeding  freely  and 
ached  severely,  the  bone  being  much  bruised. 
Then  we  rode  on,  asking  of  our  good  horses  all  that 
was  in  them.  The  excitement  of  the  fight  and  of 
our  great  resolve  died  away,  and  we  rode  in  gloomy 
silence.  Day  broke  clear  and  cold.  We  found  a 
farmer  just  up,  and  made  him  give  us  sustenance 
for  ourselves  and  our  horses.  I,  feigning  tooth- 
ache, muffled  my  face  closely.  Then  ahead  again, 
till  Strelsau  lay  before  us.  It  was  eight  o'clock  or 
nearing  nine,  and  the  gates  were  all  open,  as  they 
always  were  save  when  the  duke's  caprice  or  in- 
trigues shut  them.  We  rode  in  by  the  same  way 
as  we  had  come  out  the  evening  before,  all  four  of 
us — the  men  and  the  horses — wearied  and  jaded. 
The  streets  were  even  quieter  than  when  we  had 
gone;  everyone  was  sleeping  off  last  night's  revelry, 
and  we  met  hardly  a  soul  till  we  reached  the  little 
gate  of  the  palace.  There  Sapt's  old  groom  was 
waiting  for  us. 

"  Is  all  well,  sir?  "  he  asked. 

"  All's  well,"  said  Sapt,  and  the  man,  coming  to 
see,  took  my  hand  to  kiss. 


HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN  STRELSAU.  93 

"  The  king's  hurt!  "  he  cried. 

"  It's  nothing,"  said  I  as  I  dismounted.  "  I 
caught  my  ringer  in  the  door." 

"Remember — silence!"  said  Sapt.  "Ah!  but, 
my  good  Freyler,  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you  that!  " 

The  old  fellow  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  All  young  men  like  to  ride  abroad  now  and 
again;  why  not  the  king?"  said  he;  and  Sapt's 
laugh  left  his  opinion  of  my  motives  undisturbed. 

"  You  should  always  trust  a  man,"  observed 
Sapt,  fitting  the  key  in  the  lock — "  just  as  far  as 
you  must." 

We  went  in  and  reached  the  dressing  room. 
Flinging  open  the  door,  we  saw  Fritz  von  Tarlen- 
heim  stretched,  fully  dressed,  on  the  sofa.  He 
seemed  to  have  been  sleeping,  but  our  entry  woke 
him.  He  leaped  to  his  feet,  gave  one  glance  at 
me,  and  with  a  joyful  cry  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  before  me. 

'Thank  God,  sire!  thank  God,  you're  safe!  "  he 
cried,  stretching  his  hand  up  to  catch  hold  of  mine. 

I  confess  that  I  was  moved.  This  king,  what- 
ever his  faults,  made  people  love  him.  For  a  mo- 


94  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

ment  I  could  not  bear  to  speak  or  break  the  poor 
fellow's  illusion.  But  tough  old  Sapt  had  no  such 
feeling.  He  slapped  his  hand  on  his  thigh 
delightedly. 

"  Bravo,  lad!  "  cried  he.     "  We  shall  do!  " 

Fritz  looked  up  in  bewilderment.  I  held  out 
my  hand. 

"  You're  wounded,  sire!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  It's  only  a  scratch,"  said  I,  "  but "  I 

paused. 

He  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  bewildered  air.  Hold- 
ing my  hand,  he  looked  me  up  and  down,  and  down 
and  up.  Then  suddenly  he  dropped  my  hand  and 
reeled  back. 

"  Where's  the  king?  Where's  the  king?  "  he 
cried. 

"  Hush,  you  fool!  "  hissed  Sapt.  "  Not  so  loud! 
Here's  the  king!" 

A  knock  sounded  at  the  door.  Sapt  seized  me 
by  the  hand. 

"Here,  quick,  to  the  bedroom!  Off  with  your 
cap  and  your  boots.  Get  into  bed.  Cover  every- 
thing up." 


HIS  MAJESTY  SLEEPS  IN  STRELSAU.  95 

I  did  as  I  was  bid.  A  moment  later  Sapt  looked 
in,  nodded,  grinned,  and  introduced  an  extremely 
smart  and  deferential  young  gentleman,  who  came 
up  to  my  bedside,  bowing  again  and  again,  and  in- 
formed me  that  he  was  of  the  household  of  the 
Princess  Flavia,  and  that  her  Royal  Highness  had 
sent  him  especially  to  inquire  how  the  king's  health 
was  after  the  fatigues  which  his  Majesty  had  under- 
gone yesterday. 

"  My  best  thanks,  sir,  to  my  cousin,"  said  I; 
"  and  tell  her  Royal  Highness  that  I  was  never  bet- 
ter in  my  life." 

'  The  king,"  added  old  Sapt  (who,  I  began  to 
find,  loved  a  good  lie  for  its  own  sake),  "  has  slept 
without  a  break  all  night." 

The  young  gentleman  (he  reminded  me  of  Osric 
in  "  Hamlet  ")  bowed  himself  out  again.  The  farce 
was  over,  and  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim's  pale  face  re- 
called us  to  reality — though,  in  faith,  the  farce  had 
to  be  reality  for  us  now. 

"  Is  the  king  dead?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Please  God,  no,"  said  I.  "  But  he's  in  the 
hands  of  Black  Michael!" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   FAIR  COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER. 

A  REAL  king's  life  is  perhaps  a  hard  one;  but  a 
pretended  king's  is,  I  warrant,  much  harder.  On 
the  next  day  Sapt  instructed  me  in  my  duties — 
what  I  ought  to  do  and  what  I  ought  to  know — for 
three  hours;  then  I  snatched  breakfast,  with  Sapt 
still  opposite  me,  telling  me  that  the  king  always 
took  white  wine  in  the  morning  and  was  known  to 
detest  all  highly  seasoned  dishes.  Then  came  the 
chancellor  for  another  three  hours;  and  to  him  I 
had  to  explain  that  the  hurt  to  my  finger  (we 
turned  that  bullet  to  happy  account)  prevented  me 
from  writing — whence  arose  great  to-do,  hunting 
of  precedents  and  so  forth,  ending  in  my  "  making 
my  mark,"  and  the  chancellor  attesting  it  with  a 
superfluity  of  solemn  oaths.  Then  the  French 
ambassador  was  introduced,  to  present  his  creden- 
tials; here  my  ignorance  was  of  no  importance,  as 

96 


A  FAIR   COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.         97 

the  king  would  have  been  equally  raw  to  the  busi- 
ness (we  worked  through  the  whole  corps  diplo- 
matique in  the  next  few  days,  a  demise  of  the  crown 
necessitating  all  this  bother). 

Then,  at  last,  I  was  left  alone.  I  called  my  new 
servant  (we  had  chosen,  to  succeed  poor  Josef,  a 
young  man  who  had  never  known  the  king),  had 
a  brandy  and  soda  brought  to  me,  and  observed 
to  Sapt  that  I  trusted  that  I  might  now  have  a  rest. 

Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  was  standing  by. 

"By  Heaven!"  he  cried,  "we  waste  time. 
Aren't  we  going  to  throw  Black  Michael  by  the 
heels?  " 

"  Gently,  my  son,  gently,"  said  Sapt,  knitting  his 
brows.  "  It  would  be  a  pleasure,  but  it  might  cost 
us  dear.  Would  Michael  fall  and  leave  the  king 
alive?" 

"  And,"  I  suggested,  "  while  the  king  is  here  in 
Strelsau,  on  his  throne,  what  grievance  has  he 
against  his  dear  brother  Michael?  " 

"  Are  we  to  do  nothing,  then?  " 

"  We're  to  do  nothing  stupid,"  growled  Sapt. 

"  In  fact,  Fritz,"  said  I,  "  I  am  reminded  of  a 


98  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

situation  in  one  of  our  English  plays — '  The 
Critic  ' — have  you  heard  of  it?  Or,  if  you  like,  of 
two  men,  each  covering  the  other  with  a  revolver. 
For  I  can't  expose  Michael  without  exposing  my- 
self  " 

"  And  the  king,"  put  in  Sapt. 

"  And,  hang  me,  if  Michael  won't  expose  himself 
if  he  tries  to  expose  me!  " 

"  It's  very  pretty,"  said  old  Sapt. 

"  If  I'm  found  out,"  I  pursued,  "  I  will  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it,  and  fight  it  out  with  the  duke; 
but  at  present  I'm  waiting  for  a  move  from  him." 

"  He'll  kill  the  king,"  said  Fritz. 

"  Not  he,"  said  Sapt. 

"  Half  of  the  Six  are  in  Strelsau,"  said  Fritz. 

"  Only  half?     You're  sure?  "  asked  Sapt  eagerly. 

"  Yes— only  half." 

"  Then  the  king's  alive,  for  the  other  three 
are  guarding  him!  "  cried  Sapt. 

'  Yes — you're  right!  "  exclaimed  Fritz,  his  face 
brightening.  "  If  the  king  were  dead  and  buried 
they'd  all  be  here  with  Michael.  You  know 
Michael's  back,  colonel?  " 


A  FAIR   COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.         99 

"  I  know,  curse  him!  " 

"  Gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  said  I,  "  who  are  the 
Six?" 

"  I  think  you'll  make  their  acquaintance  soon," 
said  Sapt.  "  They  are  six  gentlemen  whom 
Michael  maintains  in  his  household;  they  belong  to 
him  body  and  soul.  There  are  three  Ruritanians; 
then  there's  a  Frenchman,  a  Belgian,  and  one  of 
your  countrymen." 

"  They'd  all  cut  a  throat  if  Michael  told  them," 
said  Fritz. 

"  Perhaps  they'll  cut  mine,"  I  suggested. 

"  Nothing  more  likely,"  agreed  Sapt.  "  Who 
are  here,  Fritz?  " 

"  De  Gautet,  Bersonin,  and  Detchard." 

'The  foreigners!  It's  as  plain  as  a  pikestaff. 
He's  brought  them,  and  left  the  Ruritanians  with 
the  king:  that's  because  he  wants  to  commit  the 
Ruritanians  as  deep  as  he  can." 

'  They  were  none  of  them  among  our  friends  at 
the  lodge,  then?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  wish  they  had  been,"  said  Sapt  wistfully. 
'  They  had  been,  not  Six,  but  Four,  by  now." 


loo  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

I  had  already  developed  one  attribute  of  royalty 
— a  feeling  that  I  need  not  reveal  all  my  mind  or 
my  secret  designs  even  to  my  intimate  friends.  I 
had  fully  resolved  on  my  course  of  action.  I  meant 
to  make  myself  as  popular  as  I  could,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  show  no  disfavor  to  Michael.  By 
these  means  I  hoped  to  allay  the  hostility  of  his  ad- 
herents, and  make  it  appear,  if  an  open  conflict 
came  about,  that  he  was  ungrateful  and  not 
oppressed. 

Yet  an  open  conflict  was  not  what  I  hoped  for. 

The  king's  interest  demanded  secrecy;  and  while 
secrecy  lasted  I  had  a  fine  game  to  play  in  Strelsau. 
Michael  should  not  grow  stronger  for  delay! 

I  ordered  my  horse,  and,  attended  by  Fritz  von 
Tarlenheim,  rode  in  the  grand  avenue  of  the  royal 
park,  returning  all  the  salutes  which  I  received  with 
punctilious  politeness.  Then  I  rode  through  a  few 
of  the  streets,  stopped  and  bought  flowers  of  a 
pretty  girl,  paying  her  with  a  piece  of  gold;  and 
then,  having  attracted  the  desired  amount  of  atten- 
tion (for  I  had  a  trail  of  half  a  thousand  people  after 
me),  I  rode  to  the  residence  of  the  Princess  Flavia, 


A  FAIR   COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.       101 

and  asked  if  she  would  receive  me.  This  step  cre- 
ated much  interest,  and  was  met  with  shouts  of 
approval.  The  princess  was  very  popular,  and  the 
chancellor  himself  had  not  scrupled  to  hint  to  me 
that  the  more  I  pressed  my  suit,  and  the  more 
rapidly  I  brought  it  to  a  prosperous  conclusion,  the 
stronger  should  I  be  in  the  affection  of  my  sub- 
jects. The  chancellor,  of  course,  did  not  under- 
stand the  difficulties  which  lay  in  the  way  of  fol- 
lowing his  loyal  and  excellent  advice.  However,  I 
thought  I  could  do  no  harm  by  calling;  and  in  this 
view  Fritz  supported  me  with  a  cordiality  that  sur- 
prised me,  until  he  confessed  that  he  also  had  his 
motive  for  liking  to  visit  the  princess'  house,  which 
motive  was  no  other  than  a  great  desire  to  see  the 
princess'  lady  in  waiting  and  bosom  friend,  the 
Countess  Helga  von  Strofzin. 

Etiquette  seconded  Fritz's  hopes.  While  I  was 
ushered  into  the  princess'  room  he  remained  with 
the  countess  in  the  antechamber;  in  spite  of  the 
people  and  servants  who  were  hanging  about  I 
doubt  not  that  they  managed  a  tete-a-tete;  but  I  had 
no  leisure  to  think  of  them,  for  I  was  playing  the 


102  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

most  delicate  move  in  all  my  difficult  game.  I 
had  to  keep  the  princess  devoted  to  me — and  yet 
indifferent  to  me;  I  had  to  show  affection  for  her — 
and  not  feel  it.  I  had  to  make  love  for  another, 
and  that  to  a  girl  who — princess  or  no  princess — 
was  the  most  beautiful  I  had  ever  seen.  Well,  I 
braced  myself  to  the  task,  made  no  easier  by  the 
charming  embarrassment  with  which  I  was  re- 
ceived. How  I  succeeded  in  carrying  out  my  pro- 
gramme will  appear  hereafter. 

"  You  are  gaining  golden  laurels,"  she  said. 
'*  You  are  like  the  prince  in  Shakspere  who  was 
transformed  by  becoming  king.  But  I'm  forget- 
ting you  are  king,  sire." 

"  I  ask  you  to  speak  nothing  but  what  your  heart 
tells  you — and  to  call  me  nothing  but  my  name." 

She  looked  at  me  for  a  moment. 

"  Then  I'm  glad  and  proud,  Rudolf,"  said  she. 
"  Why,  as  I  told  you,  your  very  face  is  changed." 

I  acknowledged  the  compliment,  but  I  disliked 
the  topic;  so  I  said: 

"  My  brother  is  back,  I  hear.  He  made  an  ex- 
cursion, didn't  he?  " 


A  FAIR   COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.       103 

'  Yes,  he  is  here,"  she  said,  frowning  a  little. 

"  He  can't  stay  long  from  Strelsau,  it  seems,"  I 
observed,  smiling.  "  Well,  we  are  all  glad  to  see 
him.  The  nearer  he  is  the  better." 

The  princess  glanced  at  me  with  a  gleam  of 
amusement  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why,  cousin?     Is  it  that  you  can " 

"  See  better  what  he's  doing?  Perhaps,"  said  I. 
"  And  why  are  you  glad?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  I  was  glad,"  she  answered. 

"  Some  people  say  so  for  you." 

"  There  are  many  insolent  people,"  she  said,  with 
delightful  haughtiness. 

"  Possibly  you  mean  that  I  am  one?  " 

:t  Your  Majesty  could  not  be,"  she  said, 
courtesying  in  feigned  deference,  but  adding, 

mischievously,     after     a     pause :     "  Unless,     that 
js " 

"  Well,  unless  what?  " 

"  Unless  you  tell  me  that  I  mind  a  snap  of  my 
fingers  where  the  Duke  of  Strelsau  is." 

Really  I  wished  that  I  had  been  the  king. 
"  You  don't  care  where  Cousin  Michael " 


104  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

"Ah,  Cousin  Michael!  I  call  him  the  Duke  of 
Strelsau." 

"  You  call  him  Michael  when  you  meet  him?  " 

"  Yes — by  the  orders  of  your  father." 

"  I  see.    And  now  by  mine?  " 

"  If  those  are  your  orders." 

"  Oh,  decidedly!  We  must  all  be  pleasant  to 
our  dear  Michael." 

"  You  order  me  to  receive  his  friends,  too,  I  sup- 
pose? " 

"The  Six?" 

"  You  call  them  that,  too?  " 

"  To  be  in  the  fashion  I  do.  But  I  order  you  to 
receive  no  one  unless  you  like." 

"  Except  yourself?  " 

"  I  pray  for  myself.     I  could  not  order." 

As  I  spoke  there  came  a  cheer  from  the  street. 
The  princess  ran  to  the  window. 

"It  is  he!"  she  cried.  "It  is — the  Duke  of 
Strelsau!" 

I  smiled,  but  said  nothing.  She  returned  to  her 
seat.  For  a  few  minutes  we  sat  in  silence.  The 
noise  outside  subsided,  but  I  heard  the  tread  of  feet 


A   FAIR  COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.       105 

in  the  anteroom.  I  began  to  talk  on  general  sub- 
jects. This  went  on  for  some  minutes.  I  won- 
dered what  had  become  of  Michael,  but  it  did  not 
seem  to  be  for  me  to  interfere.  All  at  once,  to  my 
great  surprise,  Flavia,  clasping  her  hands,  asked  in 
an  agitated  voice: 

"  Are  you  wise  to  make  him  angry?  " 

"What?  Who?  How  am  I  making  him 
angry." 

"  Why,  by  keeping  him  waiting." 

"  My  dear  cousin,  I  don't  want  to  keep  him " 

"  Well,  then,  is  he  to  come  in?  " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  wish  it." 

She  looked  at  me  curiously. 

"  How  funny  you  are!  "  she  said.  "  Of  course 
no  one  could  be  answered  while  I  was  with  you." 

Here  was  a  charming  attribute  of  royalty! 

"  An  excellent  etiquette!  "  I  cried.  "  But  I  had 
clean  forgotten  it;  and  if  I  were  alone  with  some- 
one else  couldn't  you  be  announced?" 

'''  You  know  as  well  as  I  do.  I  could  be,  because 
I  am  of  the  Blood;  "  and  she  still  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  never  could  remember  all  these  silly  rules," 


106  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

said  I  rather  feebly,  as  I  inwardly  cursed  Fritz 
for  not  posting  me  up.  "  But  I'll  repair  my 
fault." 

I  jumped  up,  flung  open  the  door,  and  advanced 
into  the  anteroom.  Michael  was  sitting  at  a  table, 
a  heavy  frown  on  his  face.  Everyone  else  was 
standing,  save  that  impudent  young  dog  Fritz,  who 
was  lounging  easily  in  an  armchair,  and  flirting 
with  the  Countess  Helga.  He  leaped  up  as  I 
entered,  with  a  deferential  elasticity  that  lent  point 
to  his  former  nonchalance.  I  had  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  that  the  duke  might  not  like  young 
Fritz. 

I  held  out  my  hand,  Michael  took  it,  and  I  em- 
braced him.  Then  I  drew  him  with  me  into  the 
inner  room. 

"  Brother,"  I  said,  "  if  I  had  known  you  were 
here  you  should  not  have  waited  here  a  moment 
before  I  asked  the  princess  to  permit  me  to  bring 
you  to  her." 

He  thanked  me,  but  coldly.  The  man  had  many 
qualities,  but  he  could  not  hide  his  feelings.  A 
mere  stranger  could  have  seen  that  he  hated  me, 


A  FAIR   COUSIN  AND  A   DARK  BROTHER.       107 

and  hated  worse  to  see  me  with  Princess  Flavia; 
yet  I  am  persuaded  that  he  tried  to  conceal  both 
feelings,  and,  further,  that  he  tried  to  persuade  me 
that  he  believed  I  was  verily  the  king.  I  did  not 
know,  of  course;  but  unless  the  king  was  an  impos- 
tor, at  once  cleverer  and  more  audacious  than  I 
(and  I  began  to  think  something  of  myself  in  that 
role),  Michael  could  not  believe  that.  And  if  he 
didn't  how  he  must  have  loathed  paying  me  defer- 
ence, and  hearing  my  "  Michael "  and  my 
"Flavia"! 

"  Your  hand  is  hurt,  sire,"  he  observed  with  con- 
cern. 

"  Yes;  I  was  playing  a  game  with  a  mongrel  dog 
(I  meant  to  stir  him),  and  you  know,  brother,  such 
have  uncertain  tempers." 

He  smiled  sourly,  and  his  dark  eyes  rested  on  me 
for  a  moment. 

"  But  is  there  no  danger  from  the  bite?  "  cried 
Flavia  anxiously. 

"  None  from  this,"  said  I.  "  If  I  gave  him  a 
chance  to  bite  deeper  it  would  be  different, 
cousin." 


io8  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

"'  But  surely  he  has  been  destroyed?  "  said  she. 

"  Not  yet.  We're  waiting  to  see  if  his  bite  is 
harmful." 

"  And  if  it  is?  "  asked  Michael,  with  his  sour 
smile. 

"  He'll  be  knocked  on  the  head,  brother,"  said  I. 

"  You  won't  play  with  him  any  more?  "  urged 
Flavia. 

"  Perhaps  I  shall." 

"  He  might  bite  again." 

"  Doubtless  he'll  try,"  said  I,  smiling. 

Then,  fearing  Michael  would  say  something 
which  I  must  appear  to  resent  (for,  though  I  might 
show  him  my  hate,  I  must  seem  to  be  full  of  favor), 
I  began  to  compliment  him  on  the  magnificent  con- 
dition of  his  regiment  and  on  their  loyal  greeting  to 
me  on  the  day  of  my  coronation.  Thence  I  passed 
to  a  rapturous  description  of  the  shooting  lodge 
which  he  had  lent  me.  But  he  rose  suddenly  to  his 
feet.  His  temper  was  failing  him,  and  as  an  ex- 
cuse he  said  farewell.  However,  as  he  reached  the 
door  he  stopped,  saying: 

"  Three  friends  of  mine  are  very  anxious  to  have 


A  FAIR   COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.        109 

the  honor  of  being  presented  to  you,  sire.  They 
are  here  in  the  antechamber." 

I  joined  him  presently,  passing  my  arm  through 
his.  The  look  on  his  face  was  honey  to  me.  We 
entered  the  antechamber  in  fraternal  fashion. 
Michael  beckoned,  and  three  men  came  forward. 

"  These  gentlemen,"  said  Michael,  with  a  stately 
courtesy  which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  could  assume 
with  perfect  grace  and  ease,  "  are  the  loyalest  and 
most  devoted  of  your  Majesty's  servants,  and  are 
my  very  faithful  and  attached  friends." 

"  On  the  last  ground  as  much  as  the  first,"  said 
I,  "  I  am  very  pleased  to  see  them." 

They  came  one  by  one  and  kissed  my  hand — De 
Gautet,  a  tall,  lean  fellow,  with  hair  standing 
straight  up  and  waxed  mustache;  Bersonin,  the 
Belgian,  a  portly  man  of  middle  height  with  a  bald 
head  (though  he  was  not  far  past  thirty);  and  last, 
the  Englishman,  Detchard,  a  narrow-faced  fellow, 
with  close-cut  fair  hair  and  a  bronzed  complexion. 
He  was  a  finely  made  man,  broad  in  the  shoulders 
and  slender  in  the  hips.  A  good  fighter,  but  a 
crooked  customer,  I  put  him  down  for.  I  spoke 


no  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND4. 

to  him  in  English,  with  a  slight  foreign  accent,  and 
I  swear  the  fellow  smiled,  though  he  hid  the  smile 
in  an  instant. 

"  So  Mr.  Detchard  is  in  the  secret,"  thought  I. 

Having  got  rid  of  my  dear  brother  and  his 
friends,  I  returned  to  make  my  adieu  to  my  cousin. 
She  was  standing  at  the  door.  I  bade  her  farewell, 
taking  her  hand  in  mine. 

"  Rudolf,"  she  said,  very  low,  "  be  careful,  won't 
you?" 

"  Of  what?  " 

"  You  know — I  can't  say.  But  think  what  your 
life  is  to " 

"  Well,  to ?  " 

"  To  Ruritania." 

Was  I  right  to  play  the  part,  or  wrong  to  play 
the  part?  I  know  not;  evil  lay  both  ways,  and  I 
dared  not  tell  her  the  truth. 

"  Only  to  Ruritania?  "  I  asked  softly. 

A  sudden  flush  spread  over  her  incomparable 
face. 

'  To  your  friends,  too,"  she  said. 

"  Friends?  " 


A   FAIR  COUSIN  AND  A  DARK  BROTHER.        m 

"  And  to  your  cousin,"  she  whispered,  "  and  lov- 
ing servant." 

I  could  not  speak.  I  kissed  her  hand,  and  went 
out  cursing  myself. 

Outside  I  found  Master  Fritz,  quite  reckless  of 
the  footmen,  playing  at  cat's-cradle  with  the  Count- 
ess Helga. 

"  Hang  it!  "  said  he,  "  we  can't  always  be  plot- 
ting. Love  claims  his  share." 

"I'm  inclined  to  think  he  does,"  said  I;  and 
Fritz,  who  had  been  by  my  side,  dropped  respect- 
fully behind. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  NEW  USE  FOR  A  TEA  TABLE. 

IF  I  were  to  detail  the  ordinary  events  of  my 
daily  life  at  this  time,  they  might  prove  instructive 
to  people  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  insides  of 
palaces;  if  I  revealed  some  of  the  secrets  I  learned, 
they  might  prove  of  interest  to  the  statesmen  of 
Europe.  I  intend  to  do  neither  of  these  things. 
I  should  be  between  the  Scylla  of  dullness  and  the 
Charybdis  of  indiscretion,  and  I  feel  that  I  had  far 
better  confine  myself  strictly  to  the  underground 
drama  which  was  being  played  beneath  the  surface 
of  Ruritanian  politics.  I  need  only  say  that  the 
secret  of  my  imposture  defied  detection.  I  made 
mistakes.  I  had  bad  minutes:  it  needed  all  the 
tact  and  graciousness  whereof  I  was  master  to 
smooth  over  some  apparent  lapses  of  memory  and 
unmindfulness  of  old  acquaintances  of  which  I  was 
guilty.  But  I  escaped,  and  I  attributed  my  escape, 


A  NEIV  USE  FOR.  A   TEA   TABLE.  "3 

as  I  said  before,  most  of  all  to  the  very  audacity  of 
the  enterprise.  It  is  my  belief  that,  given  the  nec- 
essary physical  likeness,  it  was  far  easier  to  pretend 
to  be  king  of  Ruritania  than  it  would  have  been  to 
personate  my  next-door  neighbor. 

One  day  Sapt  came  into  my  room.  He  threw 
me  a  letter,  saying: 

"  That's  for  you — a  woman's  hand,  I  think.  But 
I've  some  news  for  you  first." 

"  What's  that?  " 

"  The  king's  at  the  castle  of  Zenda,"  said  he. 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  Because  the  other  half  of  Michael's  Six  are 
there.  I  had  inquiries  made,  and  they're  all  there 
— Lauengram,  Krafstein,  and  young  Rupert  Hent- 
zau;  three  rogues,  too,  on  my  honor,  as  fine  as  live 
in  Ruritania." 

"  Well?  " 

"  Well,  Fritz  wants  you  to  march  to  the  castle 
with  horse,  foot,  and  artillery." 

"  And  drag  the  moat?  "  I  asked. 

'That  would  be  about  it,"  grinned  Sapt;  "and 
we  shouldn't  find  the  king's  body  then." 


H4  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

"  You  think  it's  certain  he's  there?  " 

"  Very  probable.  Besides  the  fact  of  those  three 
being  there,  the  drawbridge  is  kept  up  and  no  one 
goes  in  without  an  order  from  young  Hentzau  or 
Black  Michael  himself.  We  must  tie  Fritz  up." 

"  I'll  go  to  Zenda,"  said  I. 

"  You're  mad." 

"  Some  day." 

"  Oh,  perhaps.  You'll  very  likely  stay  there,  if 
you  do." 

'  That  may  be,  my  friend,"  said  I  carelessly. 

"  His  Majesty  looks  sulky,"  observed  Sapt. 
"  How's  the  love  affair?  " 

"  Damn  you,  hold  your  tongue!  "  I  said. 

He  looked  at  me  for  a  moment;  then  he  lit  his 
pipe.  It  was  quite  true  that  I  was  in  a  bad  tem- 
per, and  I  went  on  perversely: 

"  Wherever  I  go  I'm  dogged  by  half  a  dozen 
fellows." 

"  I  know  you  are;  I  send  'em,"  he  replied  com- 
posedly. 

"  What  for?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Sapt,  puffing  away,  "  it  wouldn't 


A   NEW  USE  FOR  A   TEA   TABLE.  115 

be  exactly  inconvenient  for  Black  Michael  if  you 
disappeared.  With  you  gone  the  old  game  that 
we  stopped  would  be  played — or  he'd  have  a  shot 
at  it." 

"  I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

"  De  Gautet,  Bersonin,  and  Detchard  are  in 
Strelsau;  and  any  one  of  them,  lad,  would  cut  your 
throat  as  readily — as  readily  as  I  would  Black 
Michael's  and  a  deal  more  treacherously.  What's 
the  letter?  " 

I  opened  it  and  read  it  aloud: 

If  the  king  desires  to  know  what  it  deeply  concerns  the  king 
to  know,  let  him  do  as  this  letter  bids  him.  At  the  end  of  the 
New  Avenue  there  stands  a  house  in  large  grounds.  The 
house  has  a  portico,  with  a  statue  of  a  nymph  in  it.  A  wall  in- 
closes the  garden  ;  there  is  a  gate  in  the  wall  at  the  back.  At 
twelve  o'clock  to-night,  if  the  king  enters  alone  by  that  gate, 
turns  to  the  right,  and  walks  twenty  yards,  he  will  find  a  sum- 
merhouse,  approached  by  a  flight  of  six  steps.  If  he  mounts 
and  enters,  he  will  find  someone  who  will  tell  him  what  touches 
most  dearly  his  life  and  his  throne.  This  is  written  by  a  faith- 
ful friend.  He  must  be  alone.  If  he  neglects  the  invitation,  his 
life  will  be  in  danger.  Let  him  show  this  to  no  one,  or  he 
will  ruin  a  woman  who  loves  him ;  Black  Michael  does  not 
pardon. 

"  No,"  observed  Sapt  as  I  ended,  "  but  he  can 
dictate  a  very  pretty  letter." 


Ii6  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

I  had  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion,  and  was 
about  to  throw  the  letter  away,  when  I  saw  there 
was  more  writing  on  the  other  side. 

"  Hallo!  there's  some  more." 

If  you  hesitate  [the  writer  continued]  consult  Colonel 
Sapt— 

"Eh!"  exclaimed  that  gentleman,  genuinely 
astonished.  "  Does  she  take  me  for  a  greater  fool 
than  you?  " 

I  waved  to  him  to  be  silent. 

Ask  him  what  woman  would  do  most  to  prevent  the  duke 
from  marrying  his  cousin,  and  therefore  most  to  prevent  his  be- 
coming king  ?  And  ask  if  her  name  begins  with — A. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet.     Sapt  laid  down  his  pipe. 

"Antoinette  de  Mauban,  by  Heaven!"  I  cried. 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  asked  Sapt. 

I  told  him  what  I  knew  of  the  lady,  and  how  I 
knew  it.  He  nodded. 

"  It's  so  far  true  that  she's  had  a  great  row  with 
Michael,"  said  he  thoughtfully. 

"  If  she  would,  she  could  be  useful,"  I  said. 

"  I  believe,  though,  that  Michael  wrote  that 
letter." 


A  NEW   USE  FOR  A    TEA    TABLE.  117 

"  So  do  I,  but  I  mean  to  know  for  certain.  I 
shall  go,  Sapt." 

"  No,  I  shall  go,"  said  he. 

"  You  may  go  as  far  as  the  gate." 

"  I  shall  go  to  the  summerhouse." 

"I'm  hanged  if  you  shall!" 

I  rose  and  leaned  my  back  against  the  mantel- 
piece. 

"  Sapt,  I  believe  in  that  woman,  and  I  shall  go." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  any  woman,"  said  Sapt,  "  and 
you  shan't  go." 

"  I  either  go  to  the  summerhouse  or  back  to 
England,"  said  I. 

Sapt  began  to  know  exactly  how  far  he  could 
lead  or  drive,  and  when  he  must  follow. 

"  We're  playing  against  time,"  I  added.  "  Every 
day  we  leave  the  king  where  he  is  there  is  fresh 
risk.  Every  day  I  masquerade  like  this  there  is 
fresh  risk.  Sept,  we  must  play  high ;  we  must  force 
the  game." 

"  So  be  it,"  he  said  with  a  sigh. 

To  cut  the  story  short,  at  half-past  eleven  that 
night  Sapt  and  I  mounted  our  horses.  Fritz  was 


n8  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

again  left  on  guard,  our  destination  not  being  re- 
vealed to  him.  It  was  a  very  dark  night.  I  wore 
no  sword,  but  I  carried  a  revolver,  a  long  knife,  and 
a  bull's-eye  lantern.  We  arrived  outside  the  gate. 
I  dismounted.  Sapt  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I  shall  wait  here,"  he  said.  "  If  I  hear  a  shot 
I'll " 

"  Stay  where  you  are;  it's  the  king's  only  chance. 
You  mustn't  come  to  grief  too." 

"  You're  right,  lad.     Good  luck!  " 

I  pressed  the  little  gate.  It  yielded,  and  I  found 
myself  in  a  wild  sort  of  shrubbery.  There  was  a 
grass-grown  path  and,  turning  to  the  right  as  I  had 
been  bidden,  I  followed  it  cautiously.  My  lantern 
was  closed,  the  revolver  was  in  my  hand.  I  heard 
not  a  sound.  Presently  a  large  dark  object  loomed 
out  of  the  gloom  ahead  of  me.  It  was  the  summer- 
house.  Reaching  the  steps,  I  mounted  them  and 
found  myself  confronted  by  a  weak,  rickety  wooden 
door,  which  hung  upon  the  latch.  I  pushed  it 
open  and  walked  in.  A  woman  flew  to  me  and 
seized  my  hand. 

"  Shut  the  door,"  she  whispered. 


A   NEW  USE  FOR  A   TEA    TABLE.  119 

I  obeyed,  and  turned  the  light  of  my  lantern  on 
her.  She  was  in  evening  dress,  arrayed  very 
sumptuously,  and  her  dark  striking  beauty  was 
marvelously  displayed  in  the  glare  of  the  bull's-eye. 
The  summerhottse  was  a  bare  little  room,  furnished 
only  with  a  couple  of  chairs  and  a  small  iron  table, 
such  as  one  sees  in  a  tea  garden  or  an  open-air 
cafe. 

"  Don't  talk,"  she  said.  "  We've  no  time.  Lis- 
ten! I  know  you,  Mr.  Rassendyll.  I  wrote  that 
letter  at  the  duke's  orders." 

"  So  I  thought,"  said  I. 

"  In  twenty  minutes  three  men  will  be  here  to 
kill  you." 

"Three— the  three?" 

"  Yes.  You  must  be  gone  by  then.  If  not,  to- 
night you'll  be  killed " 

"  Or  they  will." 

"  Listen,  listen!  When  you're  killed,  your  body 
will  be  taken  to  a  low  quarter  of  the  town.  It  will 
be  found  there.  Michael  will  at  once  arrest  all 
your  friends — Colonel  Sapt  and  Captain  von  Tar- 
lenheim  first — proclaim  a  state  of  siege  in  Strelsau, 


120  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

and  send  a  messenger  to  Zenda.  The  other  three 
will  murder  the  king  in  the  castle,  and  the  duke 
will  proclaim  either  himself  or  the  princess — him- 
self if  he  is  strong  enough.  Anyhow,  he'll  marry 
her,  and  become  king  in  fact,  and  soon  in  name. 
Do  you  see?  " 

"  It's  a  pretty  plot.  But  why,  madame,  do 
you " 

"  Say  I'm  a  Christian — or  say  I'm  jealous.  My 
God!  shall  I  see  him  marry  her?  Now  go;  but  re- 
member— this  is  what  I  have  to  tell  you — that 
never  by  night  or  by  day  are  you  safe.  Three  men 
follow  you  as  a  guard.  Is  it  not  so?  Well,  three 
follow  them.  Michael's  three  are  never  two  hun- 
dred yards  from  you.  Your  life  is  not  worth  a 
moment  if  ever  they  find  you  alone.  Now  go. 
Stay,  the  gate  will  be  guarded  by  now.  Go  down 
softly,  go  past  the  summerhouse,  on  for  a  hundred 
yards,  and  you'll  find  a  ladder  against  the  wall. 
Get  over  it  and  fly  for  your  life." 

"And  you?  "I  asked. 

"  I  have  my  game  to  play,  too.  If  he  finds  out 
what  I  have  done  we  shall  not  meet  again.  If 


A  NEW  USE  FOR  A   TEA   TABLE.  121 

not  I  may  yet—  But  never  mind.  Go  at 
once." 

"  But  what  will  you  tell  him?  " 

'  That  you  never  came — that  you  saw  through 
the  trick." 

I  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  Madame,"  said  I,  "  you  have  served  the  king 
well  to-night.  Where  is  he  in  the  castle?  " 

She  sank  her  voice  to  a  fearful  whisper.  I  lis- 
tened eagerly. 

"  Across  the  drawbridge  you  come  to  a  heavy 
door;  behind  that  lies Hark!  What's  that?  " 

There  were  steps  outside. 

'They're  coming!  They're  too  soon!  Heav- 
ens! they're  too  soon!"  and  she  turned  pale  as 
death. 

"  They  seem  to  me,"  said  I,  "  to  be  in  the  nick 
of  time." 

"  Close  your  lantern.  See,  there's  a  chink  in  the 
door.  Can  you  see  them?  " 

I  put  my  eye  to  the  chink.  On  the  lowest  step  I 
saw  three  dim  figures.  I  cocked  my  revolver. 
Antoinette  hastily  laid  her  hand  on  mine. 


122  THE   PRISONER   OF  ZEND/1. 

"  You  may  kill  one,"  said  she.  "  But  what 
then?" 

A  voice  came  from  outside — a  voice  that  spoke 
perfect  English. 

"  Mr.  Rassendyll,"  it  said. 

I  made  no  answer. 

"  We  want  to  talk  to  you.  Will  you  promise  not 
to  shoot  till  we've  done?  " 

"  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Mr.  Det- 
chard?  "  I  said. 

"  Never  mind  names." 

'  Then  let  mine  alone." 

"  All  right,  sire.     I've  an  offer  for  you." 

I  still  had  my  eye  to  the  chink.  The  three  had 
mounted  two  steps  more;  three  revolvers  pointed 
full  at  the  door. 

"  Will  you  let  us  in?  We  pledge  our  honor  to 
observe  the  truce." 

"  Don't  trust  them,"  whispered  Antoinette. 

"  We  can  speak  through  the  door,"  said  I. 

"  But  you  might  open  it  and  fire,"  objected  Det- 
chard;  "and  though  we  should  finish  you,  you 


A   NEW  USE  FOR  A   TEA   TABLE.  123 

might  finish  one  of  us.  Will  you  give  your  honor 
not  to  fire  while  we  talk?  " 

"  Don't  trust  them,"  whispered  Antoinette 
again. 

A  sudden  idea  struck  me.  I  considered  it  for  a 
moment.  It  seemed  feasible. 

"  I  give  my  honor  not  to  fire  before  you  do," 
said  I ;  "  but  I  won't  let  you  in.  Stand  outside  and 
talk." 

"  That's  sensible,"  he  said. 

The  three  mounted  the  last  step,  and  stood  just 
outside  the  door.  I  laid  my  ear  to  the  chink.  I 
could  hear  no  words,  but  Detchard's  head  was  close 
to  that  of  the  taller  of  his  companions  (De  Gautet, 
I  guessed). 

"  H'm!  Private  communications,"  thought  I. 
Then  I  said  aloud: 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  what's  the  offer?  " 

"  A  safe-conduct  to  the  frontier,  and  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds  English." 

"  No,  no,"  whispered  Antoinette  in  the  lowest  of 
whispers.  "  They  are  treacherous." 


124  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

'  That  seems  handsome,"  said  I,  reconnoitering 
through  the  chink.  They  were  all  close  together, 
just  outside  the  door  now. 

I  had  probed  the  hearts  of  the  ruffians,  and  I 
did  not  heed  Antoinette's  warning.  They  meant 
to  "  rush  "  me  as  soon  as  I  was  engaged  in  talk. 

"  Give  me  a  minute  to  consider,"  said  I;  and  I 
thought  I  heard  a  laugh  outside. 

I  turned  to  Antoinette. 

"  Stand  up  close  to  the  wall,  out  of  the  line  of 
fire  from  the  door,"  I  whispered. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  she  asked  in 
fright. 

"  You'll  see,"  said  I. 

I  took  up  the  little  iron  table.  It  was  not  very 
heavy  for  a  man  of  my  strength,  and  I  held  it  by  the 
legs.  The  top,  protruding  in  front  of  me,  made  a 
complete  screen  for  my  head  and  body.  I  fastened 
my  closed  lantern  to  my  belt  and  put  my  revolver 
in  a  handy  pocket.  Suddenly  I  saw  the  door  move 
ever  so  slightly — perhaps  it  was  the  wind,  perhaps 
it  was  a  hand  trying  it  outside. 

I  drew  back  as  far  as  I  could  from  the  door, 


A  NEH/  USE  FOR  A   TEA   TABLE.  125 

holding  the  table  in  the  position  that  I  have  de- 
scribed. Then  I  called  out: 

"  Gentlemen,  I  accept  your  offer,  relying  on  your 
hcnor.  If  you  will  open  the  door ' 

"  Open  it  yourself,"  said  Detchard. 

"  It  opens  outward,"  said  I.  "  Stand  back  a 
little,  gentlemen,  or  I  shall  hit  you  when  I  open  it." 

I  went  and  fumbled  with  the  latch.  Then  I  stole 
back  to  my  place  on  tiptoe. 

"I  can't  open  it!"  I  cried.  "The  latch  has 
caught." 

"Tut!  I'll  open  it!"  cried  Detchard.  "Non- 
sense, Bersonin,  why  not?  Are  you  afraid  of  one 
msn?" 

I  smiled  to  myself.  An  instant  later  the  door 
was  flung  back.  The  gleam  of  a  lantern  showed 
me  the  three  close  together  outside,  their  revolvers 
leveled.  With  a  shout  I  charged  at  my  utmost 
pace  across  the  summerhouse  and  through  the 
doorway.  Three  shots  rang  out  and  battered  into 
my  shield.  Another  moment,  and  I  leaped  out  and 
the  table  caught  them  full  and  square,  and  in  a 
tumbling,  swearing,  struggling  mass  they  and  I  and 


126  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

that  brave  table  rolled  down  the  steps  of  the  sum- 
merhouse  to  the  ground  below.  Antoinette  de 
Mauban  shrieked,  but  I  rose  to  my  feet,  laughing 
aloud. 

De  Gautet  and  Bersonin  lay  like  men  stunned. 
Detchard  was  under  the  table,  but  as  I  rose  he 
pushed  it  from  him  and  fired  again.  I  raised  my 
revolver  and  took  a  snap  shot.  I  heard  him  curse, 
and  then  I  ran  like  a  hare,  laughing  as  I  went,  past 
the  summerhouse  and  along  by  the  wall.  I  heard 
steps  behind  me,  and,  turning  round,  I  fired  again 
for  luck.  The  steps  ceased. 

"  Please  God,"  said  I,  "  she  told  me  the  truth 
about  the  ladder! "  for  the  wall  was  high  and 
topped  with  iron  spikes. 

Yes,  there  it  was.  I  was  up  and  over  in  a  min- 
ute. Doubling  back,  I  saw  the  horses.  Then  I 
heard  a  shot.  It  was  Sapt.  He  had  heard  us  and 
was  battling  and  raging  with  the  locked  gate,  ham- 
mering it  and  firing  into  the  keyhole  like  a  man 
possessed.  He  had  quite  forgotten  that  he  was  not 
to  take  part  in  the  fight.  Whereat  I  laughed  again, 
and  said  as  I  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder: 


A   NElf  USE  FOR  A   TEA    TABLE.  127 

"  Come  home  to  bed,  old  chap.  I've  got  the 
finest  tea-table  story  that  ever  you  heard!  " 

He  started  and  cried:  "  You're  safe!  "  and  wrung 
my  hand.  But  a  moment  later  he  added: 

"  And  what  the  devil  are  you  laughing  at?  " 

"  Four  gentlemen  round  a  tea  table,"  said  I, 
laughing  still,  for  it  had  been  uncommonly  ludi- 
crous to  see  the  formidable  three  altogether  routed 
and  scattered  with  no  more  deadly  weapon  than  an 
ordinary  tea  table. 

Moreover,  you  will  observe  that  I  had  honorably 
kept  my  word  and  not  fired  till  they  did. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    GREAT   CHANCE   FOR   A   VILLAIN. 

IT  was  the  custom  that  the  prefect  of  police 
should  send  every  afternoon  a  report  to  me  on  the 
condition  of  the  capital  and  the  feeling  of  the 
people:  the  document  included  also  an  account  of 
the  movements  of  any  persons  whom  the  police 
had  received  instructions  to  watch.  Since  I  had 
been  in  Strelsau  Sapt  had  been  in  the  habit  of  read- 
ing the  report  and  telling  me  any  items  of  interest 
which  it  might  contain.  On  the  day  after  my  ad- 
venture in  the  summerhouse  he  came  in  as  I  was 
playing  a  hand  of  ecarte  with  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim. 

"  The  report  is  rather  full  of  interest  this  after- 
noon," he  observed,  sitting  down. 

"  Do  you  find,"  I  asked,  "  any  mention  of  a  cer- 
tain fracas?  " 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  smile. 

"  I  find.this  first,"  he  said:  "  '  His  Highness  the 
128 


A  GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   Y1LLAIN.  129 

Duke  of  Strelsau  left  the  city  (so  far  as  it  appears, 
suddenly),  accompanied  by  several  of  his  house- 
hold. His  destination  is  believed  to  be  the  castle 
of  Zenda,  but  the  party  traveled  by  road  and  not  by 
train.  MM.  De  Gautet,  Bersonin,  and  Detchard 
followed  an  hour  later,  the  last  named  carrying  his 
arm  in  a  sling.  The  cause  of  his  wound  is  not 
known,  but  it  is  suspected  that  he  has  fought  a 
duel,  probably  incidental  to  a  love  affair.' ' 

'  That  is  remotely  true,"  I  observed,  very  well 
pleased  to  find  that  I  had  left  my  mark  on  the 
fellow. 

"  Then  we  come  to  this,"  pursued  Sapt.  "  Mme. 
de  Mauban,  whose  movements  have  been  watched 
according  to  instructions,  left  by  train  at  midday. 
She  took  a  ticket  for  Dresden " 

"  It's  an  old  habit  of  hers,"  said  I. 

"  '  The  Dresden  trains  stop  at  Zenda/  An  acute 
fellow,  this.  And  finally  listen  to  this:  '  The  state 
of  feeling  in  the  city  is  not  satisfactory.  The  king 
is  much  criticised  '  (you  know  he's  told  to  be  quite 
frank)  '  for  taking  no  steps  about  his  marriage. 
From  inquiries  among  the  entourage  of  the*  Princess 


13°  THE   PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

Flavia  her  Royal  Highness  is  believed  to  be  deeply 
offended  by  the  remissness  of  his  Majesty.  The 
common  people  are  coupling  her  name  with  that 
of  the  Duke  of  Strelsau,  and  the  duke  gains  much 
popularity  from  the  suggestion.  I  have  caused 
the  announcement  that  the  king  gives  a  ball  to- 
night in  honor  of  the  princess  to  be  widely  diffused, 
and  the  effect  is  good.' ' 

'  That  is  news  to  me,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  the  preparations  are  all  made!"  laughed 
Fritz.  "  I've  seen  to  that." 

Sapt  turned  to  me  and  said  in  a  sharp,  decisive 
voice : 

'  You  must  make  love  to  her  to-night,  you 
know." 

"I  think  it  very  likely  I  shall  if  I  see  her  alone," 
said  I.  "Hang  it,  Sapt,  you  don't  suppose  I  find 
it  difficult?" 

Fritz  whistled  a  bar  or  two;  then  he  said: 
"  You'll  find  it  only  too  easy.  Look  here,  I  hate 
telling  you  this,  but  I  must.  The  Countess  Helga 
told  me  that  the  princess  had  become  most  at- 


A   GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   V ILL  AM.  13 l 

tached  to  the  king.  Since  the  coronation  her  feel- 
ings have  undergone  a  marked  development.  It's 
quite  true  that  she  is  deeply  wounded  by  the  king's 
apparent  neglect." 

"  Here's  a  kettle  of  fish!  "  I  groaned. 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  Sapt.  "I  suppose  you've 
made  pretty  speeches  to  a  girl  before  now?  That's 
all  she  wants." 

Fritz,  himself  a  lover,  understood  better  my  dis- 
tress. He  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  but  said 
nothing. 

"  I  think,  though,"  pursued  that  cold-blooded 
old  Sapt,  "  that  you'd  better  make  your  offer  to- 
night." 

"Good  Heavens!" 

"  Or,  at  any  rate,  go  near  it;  and  I  shall  send  a 
'  semi-official '  to  the  papers." 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort — no  more  will 
you!"  said  I.  "I  utterly  refuse  to  take  part  in 
making  a  fool  of  the  princess." 

Sapt  looked  at  me  with  his  small  keen  eyes.  A 
slow,  cunning  smile  passed  over  his  face. 


13*  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

"All  right,  lad,  all  right!"  said  he.  "We 
mustn't  press  you  too  hard.  Soothe  her  down  a 
bit,  if  you  can,  you  know.  Now  for  Michael!" 

"Oh,  damn  Michael!"  said  I.  "He'll  do  to- 
morrow. Here,  Fritz,  come  for  a  stroll  in  the 
garden." 

Sapt  at  once  yielded.  His  rough  manner  cov- 
ered a  wonderful  tact — and,  as  I  came  to  recognize 
more  and  more,  a  remarkable  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  Why  did  he  urge  me  so  little  about  the 
princess?  Because  he  knew  that  her  beauty  and 
my  ardor  would  carry  me  further  than  all  his  argu- 
ments— and  that  the  less  I  thought  about  the  thing 
the  more  likely  was  I  to  do  it.  He  must  have  seen 
the  unhappiness  he  might  bring  on  the  princess; 
but  that  went  for  nothing  with  him.  Can  I  say, 
confidently,  that  he  was  wrong?  If  the  king  were 
restored  the  princess  must  turn  to  him,  either 
knowing,  or  not  knowing,  the  change.  And  if  the 
king  were  not  restored  to  us?  It  was  a  subject 
that  we  had  never  yet  spoken  of.  But  I  had  an 
idea  that,  in  such  a  case,  Sapt  meant  to  seat  me  on 
the  throne  of  Ruritania  for  the  term  of  my  life. 


A   GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   Y ILL  A  IN.  133 

He  would  have  set  Satan  himself  there  sooner  than 
that  pupil  of  his,  Black  Michael. 

The  ball  was  a  sumptuous  affair.  I  opened  it 
by  dancing  a  quadrille  with  Flavia;  then  I  waltzed 
with  her.  Curious  eyes  and  eager  whispers  at- 
tended us.  We  went  in  to  supper;  and  halfway 
through  I,  half  mad  by  then,  for  her  glance  had 
answered  mine,  and  her  quick  breathing  met  my 
stammered  sentences — I  rose  in  my  place  before  all 
the  brilliant  crowd,  and  taking  the  Red  Rose  that 
I  wore,  flung  the  ribbon  with  its  jeweled  badge 
round  her  neck.  In  a  tumult  of  applause  I  sat 
down;  I  saw  Sapt  smiling  over  his  wine,  and  Fritz 
frowning.  The  rest  of  the  meal  passed  in  silence; 
neither  Flavia  nor  I  could  speak.  Fritz  touched 
me  on  the  shoulder,  and  I  rose,  gave  her  my  arm, 
and  walked  down  the  hall  into  a  little  room,  where 
coffee  was  served  to  us.  The  gentlemen  and  ladies 
in  attendance  withdrew,  and  we  were  alone. 

The  little  room  had  French  windows  opening  on 
the  gardens.  The  night  was  fine,  cool,  and  fra- 
grant. Flavia  sat  down,  and  I  stood  opposite  her. 
I  was  struggling  with  myself;  if  she  had  not  looked 


134  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

at  me  I  believe  that  even  then  I  should  have  won 
my  fight.  But  suddenly,  involuntarily,  she  gave 
me  one  brief  glance — a  glance  of  question,  hur- 
riedly turned  aside;  a  blush  that  the  question  had 
overcome  spread  over  her  cheek,  and  she  caught 
her  breath. 

Ah,  if  you  had  seen  her!  I  forgot  the  king  in 
Zenda.  I  forgot  the  king  in  Strelsau.  She  was  a 
princess — and  I  an  impostor.  Do  you  think  I  re- 
membered that?  I  threw  myself  on  my  knee  and 
seized  her  hands  in  mine.  I  said  nothing.  Why 
should  I?  The  soft  sounds  of  the  night  set  my 
wooing  to  a  wordless  melody  as  I  pressed  my 
kisses  on  her  lips. 

She  pushed  me  from  her,  crying  suddenly: 

"Ah!  is  it  true?  or  is  it  only  because  you 
must?  " 

"It's  true!"  I  said  in  low,  smothered  tones — 
"  true  that  I  love  you  more  than  life — or  truth — 
or  honor!  " 

She  set  no  meaning  to  my  words,  treating  them 
as  one  of  love's  sweet  extravagances.  She  came 
close  to  me,  and  whispered: 


A   GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   yiLLAlN.  135 

"  Oh,  if  you  were  not  the  king!  Then  I  could 
show  you  how  I  love  you!  How  is  it  that  I  love 
you  now,  Rudolf?  " 

"  Now?  " 

"  Yes — just  lately.     I — I  never  did  before." 

Pure  triumph  filled  me.  It  was  I — Rudolf  Ras- 
sendyll — who  had  won  her!  I  caught  her  round 
the  waist. 

"  You  didn't  love  me  before?  "  I  asked. 

She  looked  up  into  my  face,  smiling,  as  she 
whispered : 

"  It  must  have  been  your  crown.  I  felt  it  first 
on  the  coronation  day." 

"  Never  before?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

She  laughed  low. 

''  You  speak  as  if  you  would  be  pleased  to  hear 
me  say  '  Yes  '  to  that,"  she  said. 

"Would  'Yes'  be  true?" 

''  Yes,"  I  just  heard  her  breathe,  and  she  went 
on  in  an  instant:  "  Be  careful,  Rudolf;  be  careful, 
dear.  He  will  be  mad  now." 

"  What,  Michael?  If  Michael  were  the 
worst " 


136  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

"  What  worst  is  there?  " 

There  was  yet  a  chance  for  me.  Controlling 
myself  with  a  mighty  effort,  I  took  my  hands  off 
her  and  stood  a  yard  or  two  away.  I  remember 
now  the  note  of  the  wind  in  the  elm  trees  out- 
side. 

"  If  I  were  not  the  king,"  I  began;  "  if  I  were 
only  a  private  gentleman — 

Before  I  could  finish  her  hand  was  in  mine. 

"  If  you  were  a  convict  in  the  prison  of  Strelsau 
you  would  be  my  king,"  she  said. 

And  under  my  breath  I  groaned,  "  God  forgive 
me!  "  and,  holding  her  hand  in  mine,  I  said  again: 

"  If  I  were  not  the  king— 

"  Hush,  hush!  "  she  whispered.  "  I  don't  de- 
serve it — I  don't  deserve  to  be  doubted.  Ah,  Ru- 
dolf! does  a  woman  who  marries  without  love  look 
on  the  man  as  I  look  on  you?  " 

And  she  hid  her  face  from  me. 

For  more  than  a  minute  we  stood  there  to- 
gether; and  I,  even  with  my  arm  about  her,  sum- 
moned up  what  honor  and  conscience  her  beauty 
and  the  toils  that  I  was  in  had  left  me. 


A  GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   VILLAlti.  137 

"  Flavia,"  I  said  in  a  strange,  dry  voice  that 
seemed  not  my  own,  "  I  am  not " 

As  I  spoke — as  she  raised  her  eyes  to  me — there 
was  a  heavy  step  on  the  gravel  outside,  and  a  man 
appeared  at  the  window.  A  little  cry  burst  from 
Flavia  as  she  sprang  back  from  me.  My  half- 
finished  sentence  died  on  my  lips.  Sapt  stood 
there,  bowing  low,  but  with  a  stern  frown  on  his 
face. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  sire,"  said  he,  "  but  his 
Eminence  the  Cardinal  has  waited  this  quarter  of 
an  hour  to  offer  his  respectful  adieu  to  your 
Majesty." 

I  met  his  eye  full  and  square;  and  I  read  in  it  an 
angry  warning.  How  long  he  had  been  a  listener 
I  knew  not,  but  he  had  come  in  upon  us  in  the  nick 
of  time. 

"  We  must  not  keep  his  Eminence  waiting," 
said  I. 

But  Flavia,  in  whose  love  there  lay  no  shame, 
with  radiant  eyes  and  blushing  face  held  out  her 
hand  to  Sapt.  She  said  nothing,  but  no  man  could 
have  missed  her  meaning  who  had  ever  seen  a 


I38  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/I. 

woman  in  the  exaltation  of  love.  A  sour,  yet  sad, 
smile  passed  over  the  old  soldier's  face,  and  there 
was  tenderness  in  his  voice  as,  bending  to  kiss  her 
hand,  he  said: 

"  In  joy  and  sorrow,  in  good  times  and  bad,  God 
save  your  Royal  Highness!  " 

He  paused  and  added,  glancing  at  me  and  draw- 
ing himself  up  to  military  erectness: 

"  But  before  all  comes  the  king — God  save  the 
king!  " 

And  Flavia  caught  at  my  hand  and  kissed  it, 
murmuring: 

"  Amen !     Good  God,  amen !  " 

We  went  into  the  ballroom  again.  Forced  to 
receive  adieus,  I  was  separated  from  Flavia;  every- 
one, when  he  left  me,  went  to  her.  Sapt  was  out 
and  in  of  the  throng,  and  where  he  had  been 
glances,  smiles,  and  whispers  were  rife.^  I  doubted 
not  that,  true  to  his  relentless  purpose,  he  was 
spreading  the  news  that  he  had  learned.  To  up- 
hold the  crown  and  beat  Black  Michael — that  was 
his  one  resolve.  Flavia,  myself — aye,  and  the  real 
king  in  Zenda,  were  pieces  in  his  game ;  and  pawns 


"I   HANDED   FLAVtA   DOWN   THK    I5ROAD    MARBLE   STEPS."—/'***  tt». 


A   GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   VILLAIN.  139 

have  no  business  with  passions.  Not  even  at  the 
walls  of  the  palace  did  he  stop;  for  when  at  last  I 
handed  Flavia  down  the  broad  marble  steps  and 
into  her  carriage  there  was  a  great  crowd  awaiting 
us,  and  we  were  welcomed  with  deafening  cheers. 
What  could  I  do?  Had  I  spoken  then  they  would 
have  refused  to  believe  that  I  was  not  the  king; 
they  might  have  believed  that  the  king  had  run 
mad.  By  Sapt's  devices  and  my  own  ungoverned 
passion  I  had  been  forced  on,  and  the  way  back 
had  closed  behind  me;  and  the  passion  still  drove 
me  in  the  same  direction  as  the  devices  se- 
duced me.  I  faced  all  Strelsau  that  night  as 
the  king  and  the  accepted  suitor  of  the  Princess 
Flavia. 

At  last,  at  three  in  the  morning,  when  the  cold 
light  of  dawrning  day  began  to  steal  in,  I  was  in  my 
dressing  room,  and  Sapt  alone  was  with  me.  I  sat 
like  a  man  dazed,  staring  into  the  fire;  he  puffed  at 
his  pipe;  Fritz  was  gone  to  bed,  having  almost  re- 
fused to  speak  to  me.  On  the  table  by  me  lay  a 
rose ;  it  had  been  in  Flavia's  dress,  and  as  we  parted 
she  had  kissed  it  and  given  it  to  me. 


140  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND.4. 

Sapt  advanced  his  hand  toward  the  rose,  but, 
with  a  quick  movement,  I  shut  mine  down  upon  it. 

"  That's  mine,"  I  said,  "  not  yours — nor  the 
king's  either." 

"  We  struck  a  good  blow  for  the  king  to-night," 
said  he. 

I  turned  on  him  fiercely. 

"  What's  to  prevent  me  striking  a  blow  for  my- 
self? "  I  said. 

He  nodded  his  head. 

"  I  know  what's  in  your  mind,"  he  said.  "  Yes, 
lad;  but  you're  bound  in  honor." 

"  Have  you  left  me  any  honor?  " 

"  Oh,  come!  to  play  a  little  trick  on  a  girl " 

"  You  can  spare  me  that.  Colonel  Sapt,  if  you 
would  not  have  me  utterly  a  villain — if  you  would 
not  have  your  king  rot  in  Zenda,  while  Michael 

and  I  play  for  the  great  stake  outside You 

follow  me?  "   . 

"Aye,  I  follow  you." 

"  We  must  act,  and  quickly!     You  saw  to-night 

— you  heard  to-night " 

"  I  did,"  said  he. 


A  GREAT  CHANCE  FOR  A   VILLAM.  141 

'  Your  cursed  acuteness  told  you  what  I  should 
do.  Well,  leave  me  here  a  week — and  there's 
another  problem  for  you.  Do  you  find  the  an- 
swer? " 

'''  Yes.  I  find  it,"  he  answered,  frowning  heavily. 
"  But  if  you  did  that  you'd  have  to  fight  me  first — 
and  kill  me." 

"  Well,  and  if  I  had — or  a  score  of  men?  I  tell 
you,  I  could  raise  all  Strelsau  on  you  in  an  hour, 

and  choke  you  with  your  lies — yes,  your  mad  lies — 

• 

in  your  mouth." 

"  It's  gospel  truth,"  he  said — "  thanks  to  my  ad- 
vice, you  could." 

"  I  could  marry  the  princess,  and  send  Michael 
and  his  brother  together  to " 

"  I'm  not  denying  it,  lad,"  said  he. 

"Then,  in  God's  name,"  I  cried,  stretching  out 
my  hands  to  him,  "  let  us  go  to  Zenda  and  crush 
this  Michael,  and  bring  the  king  back  to  his  own 
again." 

The  old  fellow  stood  and  looked  at  me  for  full  a 
minute. 

"  And  the  princess?  "  he  said. 


142  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

I  bowed  my  head  to  meet  my  hands,  and  crushed 
the  rose  between  my  fingers  and  my  lips. 

I  felt  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  his  voice 
sounded  husky  as  he  whispered  low  in  my  ear: 

"  Before  God,  you're  the  finest  Elphberg  of  them 
all.  But  I  have  eaten  of  the  king's  bread,  and  I 
am  the  king's  servant.  Come,  we  will  go  to 
Zenda!" 

And  I  looked  up  and  caught  him  by  the  hand. 
And  the  eyes  of  both  of  us  were  wet. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HUNTING     A     VERY     BIG     BOAR. 

THE  terrible  temptation  which  was  assailing 
me  will  now  be  understood.  I  would  so  force 
Michael's  hand  that  he  must  kill  the  king.  I  was 
in  a  position  to  bid  him  defiance  and  tighten  my 
grasp  on  the  crown — not  for  its  own  sake,  but  be- 
cause the  King  of  Ruritania  was  to  wed  the  Prin- 
cess Flavia.  What  of  Sapt  and  Fritz?  Ah!  but  a 
man  cannot  be  held  to  write  down  in  cold  blood 
the  wild  and  black  thoughts  that  storm  his  brain 
when  an  uncontrolled  passion  has  battered  a  breach 
for  them.  Yet,  unless  he  sets  up  as  a  saint,  he 
need  not  hate  himself  for  them.  He  is  better  em- 
ployed, as  it  humbly  seems  to  me,  in  giving  thanks 
that  power  to  resist  was  vouchsafed  to  him  than  in 
fretting  over  wicked  impulses  which  come  un- 
sought and  extort  an  unwilling  hospitality  from 
the  weakness  of  our  nature. 

*43 


144  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/!. 

It  was  a  fine  bright  morning  when  I  walked,  un- 
attended, to  the  princess'  house,  carrying  a  nose- 
gay in  my  hand.  Policy  made  excuses  for  love, 
and  every  attention  that  I  paid  her,  while  it  riveted 
my  own  chains,  bound  closer  to  me  the  people  of 
the  great  city,  who  worshiped  her.  I  found  Fritz's 
inamorata,  the  Countess  Helga,  gathering  blooms 
in  the  garden  for  her  mistress'  wear,  and  prevailed 
on  her  to  take  mine  in  their  place.  The  girl  was 
rosy  with  happiness,  for  Fritz,  in  his  turn,  had  not 
wasted  his  evening,  and  no  dark  shadow  hung  over 
his  wooing,  save  the  hatred  which  the  Duke  of 
Strelsau  was  known  to  bear  him. 

"  And  that,"  she  said,  with  a  mischievous  smile, 
"  your  Majesty  has  made  of  no  moment.  Yes, 
I  will  take  the  flowers;  shall  I  tell  you,  sire, 
what  is  the  first  thing  the  princess  does  with 
them?" 

We  were  talking  on  a  broad  terrace  that  ran 
along  the  back  of  the  house,  and  a  window  above 
our  heads  stood  open. 

"  Madame! "  cried  the  countess  merrily,  and 
Flavia  herself  looked  out.  I  bared  my  head  and 


HUNTING  A   VERY  BIG  ROAR.  H5 

bowed.  She  wore  a  white  gown,  and  her  hair  was 
loosely  gathered  in  a  knot.  She  kissed  her  hand 
to  me,  crying: 

"  Bring  the  king  up,  Helga;  I'll  give  him  some 
coffee." 

The  countess,  with  a  gay  glance,  led  the  way, 
and  took  me  into  Flavia's  morning  room.  And, 
left  alone,  we  greeted  one  another  as  lovers  are 
wont.  Then  the  princess  laid  two  letters  before 
me.  One  was  from  Black  Michael — a  most  cour- 
teous request  that  she  would  honor  him  by  spend- 
ing a  day  at  his  castle  of  Zenda,  as  had  been  her 
custom  once  a  year  in  the  summer,  when  the  place 
and  its  gardens  were  in  the  height  of  their  great 
beauty.  I  threw  the  letter  down  in  disgust,  and 
Flavia  laughed  at  me.  Then,  growing  grave 
again,  she  pointed  to  the  other  sheet. 

"  I  don't  know  who  that  comes  from/'  she  said. 
"Read  it." 

I  knew  in  a  moment.  There  was  no  signature 
at  all  this  time,  but  the  handwriting  was  the  same 
as  that  which  had  told  me  of  the  snare  in  the  sum- 
merhouse;  it  was  Antoinette  de  Mauban's. 


146  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND*. 

I  have  no  cause  to  love  you  [it  ran],  but  God  forbid  that 
you  should  fall  into  the  power  of  the  duke.  Accept  no  invi- 
tations of  his.  Go  nowhere  without  a  large  guard — a  regiment 
is  not  too  much  to  make  you  safe.  Show  this,  if  you  can,  to 
him  who  reigns  in  Strelsau. 


"  Why  doesn't  it  say  '  the  king  '?  "  asked  Flavia, 
leaning  over  my  shoulder,  so  that  the  ripple  of  her 
hair  played  on  my  cheek.  "  Is  it  a  hoax?  " 

"  As  you  value  life,  and  more  than  life,  my 
queen,"  I  said,  "  obey  it  to  the  very  letter.  A  regi- 
ment shall  camp  round  your  house  to-day.  See 
that  you  do  not  go  out  unless  well  guarded." 

"An  order,  sire?"  she  asked,  a. little  rebellious. 

"  Yes,  an  order,  madame — if  you  love  me." 

"  Ah!  "  she  cried;  and  I  could  not  but  kiss  her. 

"  You  know  who  sent  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  guess,"  said  I.  "  It  is  from  a  good  friend — 
and,  I  fear,  an  unhappy  woman.  You  must  be  ill, 
Flavia,  and  unable  to  go  to  Zenda.  Make  your 
excuses  as  cold  and  formal  as  you  like." 

"  So  you  feel  strong  enough  to  anger  Michael?  " 
she  said,  with  a  proud  smile. 

"  I'm  strong  enough  for  anything  while  you  are 
safe,"  said  I, 


HUNTING  A   VERY  BIG   BOAR.  147 

Soon  I  tore  myself  away  from  her,  and  then, 
without  consulting  Sapt,  I  took  my  way  to  the 
house  of  Marshal  Strakencz.  I  had  seen  some- 
thing of  the  old  general,  and  I  liked  and  trusted 
him.  Sapt  was  less  enthusiastic,  but  I  had  learned 
by  now  that  Sapt  was  best  pleased  when  he  could 
do  everything,  and  jealousy  played  some  part  in 
his  views.  As  things  were  now  I  had  more  work 
than  Sapt  and  Fritz  could  manage,  for  they  must 
come  with  me  to  Zenda,  and  I  wanted  a  man  to 
guard  what  I  loved  most  in  all  the  world,  and  suffer 
me  to  set  about  my  task  of  releasing  the  king  with 
a  quiet  mind. 

The  marshal  received  me  with  most  loyal  kind- 
ness. To  some  extent  I  took  him  into  my  confi- 
dence. I  charged  him  with  the  care  of  the 
princess,  looking  him  full  and  significantly  in  the 
face  as  I  bade  him  let  no  one  from  her  cousin  the 
duke  approach  her,  unless  he  himself  were  there 
and  a  dozen  of  his  men  with  him. 

"  You  may  be  right,  sire,"  said  he,  shaking  his 
gray  head  sadly.  "  I  have  known  better  men  than 
the  duke  do  worse  things  than  that  for  love." 


148  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

I  could  quite  appreciate  the  remark,  but  I 
said: 

'*  There's  something  besides  love,  marshal. 
Love's  for  the  heart;  is  there  nothing  my  brother 
might  like  for  his  head?  " 

"  I  pray  that  you  wrong  him,  sire." 

"  Marshal,  I'm  leaving  Strelsau  for  a  few  days. 
Every  evening  I  will  send  a  courier  to  you.  If  for 
three  days  none  comes  you  will  publish  an  order 
which  I  will  give  you,  depriving  Duke  Michael  of 
the  governorship  of  Strelsau  and  appointing  you 
in  his  place.  You  will  declare  a  state  of  siege. 
Then  you  will  send  word  to  Michael  that  you  de- 
mand an  audience  of  the  king You  follow 

me?" 

"  Aye,  sire." 

"  In  twenty-four  hours.  If  he  does  not  produce 
the  king  " — I  laid  my  hand  on  his  knee — "  then 
the  king  is  dead,  and  you  will  proclaim  the  next 
heir.  You  know  who  that  is?  " 

"  The  Princess  Flavia." 

"  And  swear  to  me,  on  your  faith  and  honor, 
and  by  the  fear  of  the  living  God,  that  you  will 


HUNTING  A   VERY  BIG  BOAR.  149 

stand  by  her  to  your  death,  and  kill  that  reptile, 
and  seat  her  where  I  sit  now." 

*'  On  my  faith  and  honor,  and  by  the  fear  of 
God,  I  swear  it!  And  may  Almighty  God  pre- 
serve your  Majesty,  for  I  think  that  you  go  on  an 
errand  of  danger." 

"  I  hope  that  no  life  more  precious  than  mine 
may  be  demanded,"  said  I,  rising.  Then  I  held 
out  my  hand  to  him. 

"  Marshal,"  I  said,  "  in  days  to  come  it  may  be — 
I  know  not — that  you  will  hear  strange  things  of 
the  man  who  speaks  to  you  now.  Let  him  be 
what  he  may,  and  who  he  may,  what  say  you  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  has  borne  himself  as  king  in 
Strelsau? " 

The  old  man,  holding  my  hand,  spoke  to  me, 
man  to  man. 

"  I  have  known  many  of  the  Elphbergs,"  said 
he,  "  and  I  have  seen  you.  And,  happen  what 
may,  you  have  borne  yourself  as  a  wise  king  and  a 
brave  man;  aye,  and  you  have  proved  as  courteous 
a  gentleman  and  as  gallant  a  lover  as  any  that  have 
been  of  the  House." 


150  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

"  Be  that  my  epitaph,"  said  I,  "  when  the  time 
come  that  another  sits  on  the  throne  of  Ruritania." 

"  God  send  a  far  day,  and  may  I  not  see  it!  "  said 
he. 

I  was  much  moved,  and  the  marshal's  worn  face 
twitched.  I  sat  down  and  wrote  my  order. 

"  I  can  hardly  yet  write,"  said  I;  "  my  finger  is 
stiff  still." 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  first  time  that  I  had  ventured 
to  write  more  than  a  signature;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
pains  I  had  taken  to  learn  the  king's  hand,  I  was 
not  yet  perfect  in  it. 

"  Indeed,  sire,"  he  said,  "  it  differs  a  little  from 
your  ordinary  handwriting.  It  is  unfortunate,  for 
it  may  lead  to  a  suspicion  of  forgery." 

"  Marshal,"  said  I,  with  a  laugh,  ''  what  use  are. 
the  guns  of  Strelsau  if  they  can't  assuage  a  little 
suspicion?  " 

He  smiled  grimly  and  took  the  paper. 

"  Colonel  Sapt  and  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  go 
with  me,"  I  continued. 

"  You  go  to  seek  the  duke?  "  he  asked  in  a  low 
tone. 


HUNTING  A  VERY  BIG  BOAR.  IS1 

"  Yes,  the  duke,  and  someone  else  of  whom  I 
have  need  and  who  is  at  Zenda,"  I  replied. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you,"  he  cried,  tugging 
at  his  white  mustache.  "  I'd  like  to  strike  a  blow 
for  you  and  your  crown." 

"  I  leave  you  what  is  more  than  my  life  and  more 
than  my  crown,"  said  I,  "  because  you  are  the  man 
I  trust  more  than  all  others  in  Ruritania." 

"  I  will  deliver  her  to  you  safe  and  sound,"  said 
he,  "  and,  failing  that,  I  will  make  her  queen." 

We  parted,  and  I  returned  to  the  palace  and  told 
Sapt  and  Fritz  what  I  had  done.  Sapt  had  a  few 
faults  to  find  and  a  few  grumbles  to  utter.  This 
was  merely  what  I  expected,  for  Sapt  liked  to  be 
consulted  beforehand,  not  informed  afterward;  on 
the  whole,  he  approved  of  my  plans,  and  his  spirits 
rose  high  as  the  hour  of  action  drew  nearer  and 
nearer.  Fritz,  too,  was  ready;  though  he,  poor 
fellow,  risked  more  than  Sapt  did,  for  he  was  a 
lover,  and  his  happiness  hung  in  the  scale.  Yet 
how  I  envied  him!  For  the  triumphant  issue 
which  would  crown  him  with  happiness  and  unite 
him  to  his  mistress,  the  success  for  which  we  were 


J52  THE  PRISONER  or  ZEN  DA. 

bound  to  hope  and  strive  and  struggle,  meant  to 
me  sorrow  more  certain  and  greater  than  if  I  were 
doomed  to  fail.  He  understood  something  of  this, 
for,  when  we  were  alone  (save  for  old  Sapt,  who 
was  smoking  at  the  other  end  of  the  room),  he 
passed  his  arm  through  mine,  saying: 

"  It's  hard  for  you.  Don't  think  I  don't  trust 
you;  I  know  you  have  nothing  but  true  thoughts 
in  your  heart." 

But  I  turned  away  from  him.  thankful  that  he 
could  not  see  what  my  heart  held,  but  only 
be  witness  to  the  deeds  that  my  hands  were 
to  do. 

Yet  even  he  did  not  understand,  for  he  had  not 
dared  to  lift  his  eyes  to  the  Princess  Flavia,  as  I  had 
lifted  mine. 

Our  plans  were  now  all  made,  even  as  we  pro- 
ceeded to  carry  them  out,  and  as  they  will  hereafter 
appear.  The  next  morning  we  were  to  start  on  the 
hunting  excursion.  I  had  made  all  arrangements 
for  being  absent,  and  now  there  was  only  one  thing 
left  to  do — the  hardest,  the  most  heart-breaking. 
As  evening  fell  I  drove  through  the  busy  streets  to 


HUNTING  A   VERY  BIG  BOAR.  153 

Flavia's  residence.  I  was  recognized  as  I  went, 
and  heartily  cheered.  I  played  my  part,  and  made 
shift  to  look  the  happy  lover.  In  spite  of  my  de- 
pression I  was  almost  amused  at  the  coolness  and 
delicate  hauteur  with  which  my  sweet  love  re- 
ceived me.  She  had  heard  that  the  king  was  leav- 
ing Strelsau  on  a  hunting  expedition. 

"  I  regret  that  we  cannot  amuse  your  Majesty 
here  in  Strelsau,"  she  said,  tapping  her  foot  lightly 
on  the  floor.  "  I  would  have  offered  you  more 
entertainment,  but  I  was  foolish  enough  to 
think—" 

"  Well,  what?  "  I  asked,  leaning  over  her. 

"  That  for  just  a  day  or  two,  after — after  last 
night — you  might  be  happy  without  much 
gayety;  "  and  she  turned  pettishly  from  me,  as  she 
added,  "  I  hope  the  boars  will  be  more  engross- 
ing." 

"  I'm  going  after  a  very  big  boar,"  said  I;  and, 
because  I  could  not  help  it,  I  began  to  play  with 
her  hair,  but  she  moved  her  head  away. 

"  Are  you  offended  with  me?  "  I  asked  in  feigned 
surprise,  for  I  could  not  resist  tormenting  her  a 


154  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

little.  I  had  never  seen  her  angry,  and  every  fresh 
aspect  of  her  was  a  delight  to  me. 

"  What  right  have  I  to  be  offended?  True,  you 
said  last  night  that  every  hour  away  from  me  was 
wasted.  But  a  very  big  boar!  that's  a  different 
thing." 

"  Perhaps  the  boar  will  hunt  me,"  I  suggested. 
"  Perhaps,  Flavia,  he'll  catch  me." 

She  made  no  answer. 

'  You  are  not  touched  even  by  that  danger?  " 

Still  she  said  nothing;  and  I,  stealing  round, 
found  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

'  You  weep  for  my  danger?  " 

Then  she  spoke,  very  low: 

'  This  is  like  what  you  used  to  be;  but  not  like 
the  king — the  king  I — I  have  come  to  love!  " 

With  a  sudden  great  groan  I  caught  her  to  my 
heart. 

"  My  darling!  "  I  cried,  forgetting  everything 
but  her,  "  did  you  dream  that  I  left  you  to  go 
hunting?  " 

"What  then,  Rudolf?  Ah!  you're  not  go- 
ing  " 


HUNTING  A   VERY  BIG   BOAR.  155 

"  Well,  it  is  hunting.  I  go  to  seek  Michael  in 
his  lair." 

She  had  turned  very  pale. 

"  So  you  see,  sweet,  I  was  not  so  poor  a  lover  as 
you  thought  me.  I  shall  not  be  long  gone." 

"  You  will  write  to  me,  Rudolf?  " 

I  was  weak,  but  I  could  not  say  a  word  to  stir 
suspicion  in  her. 

"  I'll  send  you  all  my  heart  every  day," 
said  I. 

"  And  you'll  run  no  danger?  " 

"  None  that  I  need  not." 

"  And  when  will  you  be  back?  Ah,  how  long  it 
will  be!" 

"When  shall  I  be  back?"  I  repeated. 

"  Yes,  yes!  Don't  be  long,  dear,  don't  be  long. 
I  shan't  sleep  while  you're  away." 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  be  back,"  said  I. 

"  Soon,  Rudolf,  soon?  " 

"  God  knows,  my  darling.     But  if  never " 

"Hush,  hush!"  and  she  pressed  her  lips  to 
mine. 

"  If  never,"  I  whispered,  "  you  must  take  my 


IS6  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDJ. 

place;  you'll  be  the  only  one  of  the  House  then. 
You  must  reign,  and  not  weep  for  me." 

For  a  moment  she  drew  herself  up  like  a  very 
queen. 

"  Yes,  I  will!  "  she  said.  "  I  will  reign.  I  will 
do  my  part.  Though  all  my  life  will  be  empty  and 
my  heart  dead,  yet  I'll  do  it!  " 

She  paused,  and  sinking  against  me  again, 
wailed  softly: 

"  Come  soon!  come  soon!  " 

Carried  away,  I  cried  loudly: 

"  As  God  lives,  I — yes,  I  myself — will  see  you 
once  more  before  I  die!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean? "  she  exclaimed  with 
wondering  eyes;  but  I  had  no  answer  for  her,  and 
she  gazed  at  me  with  her  wondering  eyes. 

I  dared  not  ask  her  to  forget;  she  would  have 
found  it  an  insult.  I  could  not  tell  her  then  who 
and  what  I  was.  She  was  weeping,  and  I  had  but 
to  dry  her  tears. 

"  Shall  a  man  not  come  back  to  the  loveliest 
lady  in  all  the  wide  world?  "  said  I.  "  A  thousand 
Michaels  should  not  keep  me  from  you!  " 


HUNTING  A   VERY  BIG  BOAR.  157 

She  clung  to  me  a  little  comforted. 

"  You  won't  let  Michael  hurt  you?  " 

"  No,  sweetheart." 

"  Or  keep  you  from  me?  " 

"  No,  sweetheart." 

"  Nor  anyone  else?  " 

And  again  I  answered: 

"  No,  sweetheart." 

Yet  there  was  one — not  Michael — who,  if  he 
lived,  must  keep  me  from  her;  and  for  whose  life 
I  was  going  forth  to  stake  my  own.  And  his 
figure — the  lithe,  buoyant  figure  I  had  met  in  the 
woods  of  Zenda — the  dull,  inert  mass  I  had  left  in 
the  cellar  of  the  shooting  lodge — seemed  to  rise, 
double-shaped,  before  me,  and  to  come  between 
us,  thrusting  itself  in  even  where  she  lay,  pale,  ex- 
hausted, fainting,  in  my  arms,  and  yet  looking  up 
at  me  with  those  eyes  that  bore  such  love  as  I  have 
never  seen,  and  haunt  me  now,  and  will  till  the 
ground  closes  over  me — and  (who  knows?)  per- 
haps beyond. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

I   RECEIVE   A   VISITOR  AND    BAIT   A    HOOK. 

ABOUT  five  miles  from  Zenda,  on  the  opposite 
side  from  that  on  which  the  castle  was  situated, 
there  lies  a  large  tract  of  wood.  It  is  rising 
ground  and  in  the  center  of  the  demesne,  on  the 
top  of  the  hill,  stands  a  fine  modern  chateau,  the 
property  of  a  distant  kinsman  of  Fritz's,  the  Count 
Stanislas  von  Tarlenheim.  Count  Stanislas  him- 
self was  a  student  and  a  recluse.  He  seldom  vis- 
ited the  house,  and  had,  on  Fritz's  request,  very 
readily  and  courteously  offered  me  its  hospitality 
for  myself  and  my  party.  This,  then,  was  our  des- 
tination; chosen  ostensibly  for  the  sake  of  the  boar 
hunting  (for  the  wood  was  carefully  preserved,  and 
boars,  once  common  all  over  Ruritania,  were  still 
to  be  found  there  in  considerable  numbers),  really 
because  it  brought  us  within  striking  distance  of 

the  Duke  of  Strelsau's  more  magnificent  dwelling 

158 


/  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK.       *59 

on  the  other  side  of  the  town.  A  large  party  of 
servants,  with  horses  and  luggage,  started  early  in 
the  morning;  we  followed  at  midday,  traveling  by 
train  for  thirty  miles,  and  then  mounting  our  horses 
to  ride  the  remaining  distance  to  the  chateau. 

We  were  a  gallant  party.  Besides  Sapt  and 
Fritz,  I  was  accompanied  by  ten  gentlemen. 
Every  one  of  them  had  been  carefully  chosen,  and 
no  less  carefully  sounded  by  my  two  friends,  and 
all  were  devotedly  attached  to  the  person  of  the 
king.  They  were  told  a  part  of  the  truth.  The 
attempt  on  my  life  in  the  sumrnerhouse  was  re- 
vealed to  them  as  a  spur  to  their  loyalty  and  an 
indictment  against  Michael.  They  were  also  in- 
formed that  a  friend  of  the  king's  was  suspected 
to  be  forcibly  confined  within  the  castle  of  Zenda. 
His  rescue  was  one  of  the  objects  of  the  expedi- 
tion; but,  it  was  added,  the  king's  main  desire  was 
to  carry  into  effect  certain  steps  against  his  treach- 
erous brother,  as  to  the  precise  nature  of  which 
they  could  not  at  present  be  further  enlightened. 
Enough  that  the  king  commanded  their  services 
and  would  rely  on  their  devotion  when  occasion 


160  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

arose  to  call  for  it.  Young,  well-bred,  brave,  and 
loyal,  they  asked  no  more.  They  were  ready  to 
prove  their  dutiful  obedience,  and  prayed  for  a 
fight  as  the  best  and  most  exhilarating  mode  of 
showing  it. 

Thus  the  scene  was  shifted  from  Strelsau  to  the 
chateau  of  Tarlenheim  and  castle  of  Zenda,  which 
frowned  at  us  across  the  valley.  I  tried  to  shift 
my  thoughts  also,  to  forget  my  love,  and  to  bend 
all  my  energies  to  the  task  before  me.  It  was  to 
get  the  king  out  of  the  castle  alive.  Force  was 
useless:  in  some  trick  lay  the  chance;  and  I  had 
already  an  inkling  of  what  we  must  do.  But  I  was 
terribly  hampered  by  the  publicity  which  attended 
my  movements.  Michael  must  know  by  now  of 
my  expedition;  and  I  knew  Michael  too  well  to 
suppose  that  his  eyes  would  be  blinded  by  the  feint 
of  the  boar  hunt.  He  would  understand  very  well 
what  the  real  quarry  was.  That,  however,  must 
be  risked — that  and  all  it  might  mean;  for  Sapt,  no 
less  than  myself,  recognized  that  the  present  state 
of  things  had  become  unendurable.  And  there 
was  one  thing  that  I  dared  to  calculate  on — not, 


/  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK.      161 

as  I  now  know,  without  warrant.  It  was  this — 
that  Black  Michael  would  not  believe  that  I  meant 
well  by  the  king.  He  could  not  appreciate — I  will 
not  say  an  honest  man,  for  the  thoughts  of  my  own 
heart  have  been  revealed — but  a  man  acting  hon- 
estly. He  saw  my  opportunity  as  I  had  seen  it, 
as  Sapt  had  seen  it;  he  knew  the  princess — nay 
(and  I  declare  that  a  sneaking  sort  of  pity  for  him 
invaded  me),  in  his  way  he  loved  her;  he  would 
think  that  Sapt  and  Fritz  could  be  bribed,  so  the 
bribe  were  large  enough.  Thinking  thus,  would 
he  kill  the  king,  my  rival  and  my  danger?  Aye, 
verily,  that  he  would,  with  as  little  compunction  as 
he  would  kill  a  rat.  But  he  would  kill  Rudolf  Ras- 
sendyll  first,  if  he  could;  and  nothing  but  the  cer- 
tainty of  being  utterly  damned  by  the  release  of 
the  king  alive  and  his  restoration  to  the  throne 
would  drive  him  to  throw  away  the  trump  card 
which  he  held  in  reserve  to  balk  the  supposed  game 
of  the  impudent  impostor  Rassendyll.  Musing  on 
all  this  as  I  rode  along,  I  took  courage. 

Michael  knew  of  my  coming,  sure  enough.     I 
had  not  been  in  the  house  an  hour  when  an  impos- 


1 62  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

ing  embassy  arrived  from  him.  He  did  not  quite 
reach  the  impudence  of  sending  my  would-be 
assassins,  but  he  sent  the  other  three  of  his  famous 
Six — the  three  Ruritanian  gentlemen — Lauen- 
gram,  Krafstein,  and  Rupert  Hentzau.  A  fine, 
strapping  trio  they  were,  splendidly  horsed  and 
admirably  equipped.  Young  Rupert,  who  looked 
a  dare-devil,  and  could  not  have  been  more  than 
twenty-two  or  twenty-three,  took  the  lead,  and 
made  us  the  neatest  speech,  wherein  my  devoted 
subject  and  loving  brother,  Michael  of  Strelsau, 
prayed  me  to  pardon  him  for  not  paying  his  ad- 
dresses in  person,  and,  further,  for  not  putting  his 
castle  at  my  disposal;  the  reason  for  both  of  these 
apparent  derelictions  being  that  he  and  several  of 
his  servants  lay  sick  of  scarlet  fever,  and  were  in  a 
very  sad,  and  also  a  very  infectious  state.  So  de- 
clared young  Rupert  with  an  insolent  smile  on  his 
curling  upper  lip  and  a  toss  of  his  thick  hair — he 
was  a  handsome  villain,  and  the  gossip  ran  that 
many  a  lady  had  troubled  her  heart  for  him 
already. 

"  If  my  brother  has  scarlet  fever,"  said  I,  "  he  is 


I  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK.      163 

nearer  my  complexion  than  he  is  wont  to  be,  my 
lord.  I  trust  he  does  not  suffer?  " 

"  He  is  able  to  attend  to  his  affairs,  sire." 

"  I  hope  all  beneath  your  roof  are  not  sick. 
What  of  my  good  friends  De  Gautet,  Bersonin,  and 
Detchard?  I  heard  the  last  had  suffered  a  hurt." 

Lauengram  and  Krafstein  looked  glum  and  un- 
easy, but  young  Rupert's  smile  grew  broader. 

"  He  hopes  soon  to  find  a  medicine  for  it,  sire," 
he  answered. 

And  I  burst  out  laughing,  for  I  knew  what  medi- 
cine Detchard  longed  for — it  is  called  Revenge. 

'  You  will  dine  with  us,  gentlemen?  "  I  asked. 

Young  Rupert  was  profuse  in  apologies.  They 
had  urgent  duties  at  the  castle. 

'  Then,"  said  I,  with  a  wave  of  my  hand,  "  to 
our  next  meeting,  gentlemen.  May  it  make  us 
better  acquainted!  " 

"  We  will  pray  your  Majesty  for  an  early  oppor- 
tunity," quoth  Rupert  airily;  and  he  strode  past 
Sapt  with  such  jeering  scorn  on  his  face  that  I  saw 
the  old  fellow  clench  his  fist  and  scowl  black  as 
nisrht. 


1 64  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

For  my  part,  if  a  man  must  needs  be  a  knave  I 
would  have  him  a  debonair  knave,  and  I  liked  Ru- 
pert Hentzau  better  than  his  long-faced,  close- 
eyed  companions.  It  makes  your  sin  no  worse, 
as  I  conceive,  to  do  it  a  la  mode  and  stylishly. 

Now  it  was  a  curious  thing  that  on  this  first 
night,  instead  of  eating  the  excellent  dinner  my 
cooks  had  prepared  for  me,  I  must  needs  leave  my 
gentlemen  to  eat  it  alone,  under  Sapt's  presiding 
care,  and  ride  myself  with  Fritz  to  the  town  of 
Zenda  and  a  certain  little  inn  that  I  knew  of. 
There  was  little  danger  in  the  excursion ;  the  even- 
ings were  long  and  light,  and  the  road  this  side  of 
Zenda  well  frequented.  So  off  we  rode,  with  a 
groom  behind  us.  I  muffled  myself  up  in  a  big 
cloak. 

"  Fritz,"  said  I  as  we  entered  the  town,  "  there's 
an  uncommonly  pretty  girl  at  this  inn." 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  I've  been  there,"  said  I. 

"  Since "  he  began. 

"  No.     Before,"  said  I. 

"  But  they'll  recognize  you?" 


/  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK.      165 

"  Well,  of  course  they  will.  Now  don't  argue, 
my  good  fellow,  but  listen  to  me.  We're  two 
gentlemen  of  the  king's  household,  arid  one  of  us 
has  a  toothache.  The  other  will  order  a  private 
room  and  dinner,  and  further,  a  bottle  of  the  best 
wine  for  the  sufferer.  And  if  he  be  as  clever  a  fel- 
low as  I  take  him  for,  the  pretty  girl  and  no  other 
will  wait  on  us." 

"  What  if  she  won't?  "  objected  Fritz. 

"  My  dear  Fritz,"  said  I,  "  if  she  won't  for  you 
she  will  for  me." 

We  were  at  the  inn.  Nothing  of  me  but  my 
eyes  was  visible  as  I  walked  in.  The  landlady  re- 
ceived us;  two  minutes  later  my  little  friend  (ever, 
I  fear  me,  on  the  lookout  for  such  guests  as  might 
prove  amusing)  made  her  appearance.  Din- 
ner and  the  wine  were  ordered.  I  sat  down 
in  the  private  room.  A  minute  after  Fritz 
came  in. 

"  She's  coming,"  he  said. 

"  If  she  were  not  I  should  have  to  doubt  the 
Countess  Helga's  taste." 

She  came  in.     I  gave  her  time  to  set  the  wine 


1 66  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

down — I  didn't  want  it  dropped.  Fritz  poured 
out  a  glass  and  gave  it  to  me. 

"  Is  the  gentleman  in  great  pain?  "  the  girl  asked 
sympathetically. 

'  The  gentleman  is  no  worse  than  when  he  saw 
you  last,"  said  I,  throwing  away  my  cloak. 

She  started  with  a  little  shriek.     Then  she  cried : 

"  It  was  the  king,  then!  I  told  mother  so  the 
minute  I  saw  his  picture.  Oh,  sir,  forgive  me!  " 

"  Faith,  you  gave  me  nothing  that  hurt  much," 
said  I. 

"  But  the  things  we  said!  " 

"  I  forgive  them  for  the  thing  you  did." 

"  I  must  go  and  tell  mother." 

"  Stop,"  said  I,  assuming  a  graver  air.  "  We 
are  not  here  for  sport  to-night.  Go  and  bring  din- 
ner, and  not  a  word  of  the  king  being  here." 

She  came  back  in  a  few  minutes,  looking  grave, 
yet  very  curious. 

"  Well,  how  is  Johann?  "  I  asked,  beginning  my 
dinner. 

"  Oh,  that  fellow,  sir — my  lord  king,  I  mean !  " 

"  '  Sir  '  will  do,  please.     How  is  he?  " 


/  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK.      167 

"  We  hardly  see  him  now,  sir!  " 

"  And  why  not?  " 

"  I  told  him  he  came  too  often,  sir,"  said  she, 
tosing  her  head. 

"  So  he  sulks  and  stays  away?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  But  you  could  bring  him  back?  "  I  suggested, 
with  a  smile. 

"  Perhaps  I  could,"  said  she. 

"  I  know  your  powers,  you  see,"  said  I,  and  she 
blushed  with  pleasure. 

"  It's  not  only  that,  sir,  that  keeps  him  away. 
He's  very  busy  at  the  castle  now." 

"  But  there's  no  shooting  on  now." 

"  No,  sir;  but  he's  in  charge  of  the  house." 

"  Johann  turned  housemaid?" 

The  little  girl  was  brimming  over  with  gossip. 

"  Well,  there  are  no  others,"  said  she.  "  There's 
not  a  woman  there — not  as  a  servant,  I  mean. 
They  do  say — but  perhaps  it's  false,  sir." 

"  Let's  have  it  for  what  it's  worth,"  said  I. 

"  Indeed,  I'm  ashamed  to  tell  you,  sir." 

"  Oh,  see!  I'm  looking  at  the  ceiling." 


1 68  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND A. 

1  They  do  say  there  is  a  lady  there,  sir;  but,  ex- 
cept for  her,  there's  not  a  woman  in  the  place. 
And  Johann  has  to  wait  on  the  gentlemen." 

"  Poor  Johann !  He  must  be  overworked.  Yet 
I'm  sure  he  could  find  half  an  hour  to  come  and  see 
you." 

"  It  would  depend  on  the  time,  sir,  perhaps." 

"  Do  you  love  him?  "  I  asked. 

"  Not  I,  sir." 

"  And  you  wish  to  serve  the  king?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  tell  him  to  meet  you  at  the  second  mile- 
stone out  of  Zenda,  to-morrow  evening  at  ten 
o'clock.  Say  you'll  be  there  and  will  walk  home 
with  him." 

"  Do  you  mean  him  harm,  sir?  " 

"  Not  if  he  will  do  as  I  bid  him.  But  I  think 
I've  told  you  enough,  my  pretty  maid.  See  that 
you  do  as  I  bid  you.  And,  mind,  no  one  is  to 
know  that  the  king  has  been  here." 

I  spoke  a  little  sternly,  for  there  is  seldom  harm 
in  infusing  a  little  fear  into  a  woman's  liking  for 
you,  and  I  softened  the  effect  by  giving  her  a  hand- 


/  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK.      169 

some  present.  Then  we  dined,  and  wrapping  my 
cloak  about  my  face,  with  Fritz  leading  the  way, 
we  went  downstairs  to  our  horses  again. 

It  was  but  half-past  eight,  and  hardly  yet  dark; 
the  streets  were  full  for  such  a  quiet  little  place,  and 
I  could  see  that  gossip  was  all  agog.  With  the 
king  on  one  side  and  the  duke  on  the  other,  Zenda 
felt  itself  the  center  of  all  Ruritania.  We  jogged 
gently  through  the  town,  but  set  our  horses  to  a 
sharper  pace  when  we  reached  the  open  country. 

"  You  want  to  catch  this  fellow  Johann?  "  asked 
Fritz. 

"  Aye,  and  I  fancy  I've  baited  the  hook  right. 
Our  little  Delilah  will  bring  our  Samson.  It  is  not 
enough,  Fritz,  to  have  no  women  in  a  house, 
though  brother  Michael  shows  some  wisdom  there. 
If  you  want  safety  you  must  have  none  within  fifty 
miles." 

"  None  nearer  than  Strelsau,  for  instance,"  said 
poor  Fritz,  with  a  lovelorn  sigh. 

We  reached  the  avenue  of  the  chateau,  and  were 
soon  at  the  house.  As  the  hoofs  of  our  horses 
sounded  on  the  gravel  Sapt  rushed  out  to  meet  us. 


170  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

"Thank  God,  you're  safe!"  he  cried.  "Have 
you  seen  anything  of  them?  " 

"  Of  whom?  "  I  asked,  dismounting. 

He  drew  us  aside,  that  the  grooms  might  not 
hear. 

"  Lad,"  he  said  to  me,  "  you  must  not  ride  about 
here  unless  with  half  a  dozen  of  us.  You  know 
among  our  men  a  tall  young  fellow,  Bernenstein 
by  name?  " 

I  knew  him.  He  was  a  fine,  strapping  young 
man,  almost  of  my  height,  and  of  light  complexion. 

"  He  lies  in  his  room  upstairs,  with  a  bullet 
through  his  arm." 

"  The  deuce  he  does!  " 

"  After  dinner  he  strolled  out  alone,  and  went  a 
mile  or  so  into  the  wood;  and  as  he  walked  he 
thought  he  saw  three  men  among  the  trees;  and 
one  leveled  a  gun  at  him.  He  had  no  weapon,  and 
he  started  at  a  run  back  toward  the  house.  But 
one  of  them  fired,  and  he  was  hit,  and  had  much 
ado  to  reach  here  before  he  fainted.  By  good 
luck,  they  feared  to  pursue  him  nearer  the  house." 

He  paused,  and  added: 


/  RECEIVE  A   VISITOR  AND  BAIT  A  HOOK,      i?1 

"  Lad,  the  bullet  was  meant  for  you." 

"  It  is  very  likely,"  said  I,  "  and  it's  first  blood  to 
brother  Michael." 

"  I  wonder  which  three  it  was,"  said  Fritz. 

"  Well,  Sapt,"  I  said,  "  I  went  out  to-night  for 
no  idle  purpose,  as  you  shall  hear.  But  there's  one 
thing  in  my  mind." 

"  What's  that?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  this,"  I  answered.  "  That  I  shall  ill  re- 
quite the  very  great  honors  Ruritania  has  done  me 
if  I  depart  from  it  leaving  one  of  those  Six  alive — 
neither,  with  the  help  of  God,  will  I." 

And  Sapt  shook  my  hand  on  that. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AN     IMPROVEMENT     ON     JACOB'S     LADDER. 

IN  the  morning  of  the  day  after  that  on  which  I 
swore  my  oath  against  the  Six  I  gave  certain 
orders  and  then  rested  in  greater  contentment 
than  I  had  known  for  some  time.  I  was  at  work; 
and  work,  though  it  cannot  cure  love,  is  yet  a  nar- 
cotic to  it.  So  that  Sapt,  who  grew  feverish,  mar- 
veled to  see  me  sprawling  in  an  armchair  in  the 
sunshine,  listening  to  one  of  my  friends  who  sang 
me  amorous  songs  in  a  mellow  voice  and  induced 
in  me  a  pleasing  melancholy.  Thus  was  I  engaged 
when  young  Rupert  Hentzau,  who  feared  neither 
man  nor  devil,  and  rode  through  the  demesne — 
where  every  tree  might  hide  a  marksman,  for  all 
he  knew — as  though  it  had  been  the  park  at  Strel- 
sau,  cantered  up  to  where  I  lay,  bowing  with 
burlesque  deference,  and  craving  private  speech 
with  me  in  order  to  deliver  a  message  from  the 


AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        i?3 

Duke  of  Strelsau.  I  made  all  withdraw,  and  then 
he  said,  seating  himself  by  me: 

"  The  king  is  in  love,  it  seems?  " 

"  Not  with  life,  my  lord,"  said  I,  smiling. 

"  It  is  well,"  he  rejoined.  "  Come,  we  are  alone. 
Rassendyll " 

I  rose  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  was  about  to  call  one  of  my  gentlemen  to 
bring  your  horse,  my  lord.  If  you  do  not  know 
how  to  address  the  king  my  brother  must  find  an- 
other messenger." 

"  Why  keep  up  the  farce?  "  he  asked,  negligently 
dusting  his  boot  with  his  glove. 

"  Because  it  is  not  finished  yet;  and  meanwhile 
I'll  choose  my  own  name." 

"  Oh,  so  be  it!  Yet  I  spoke  in  love  for  you;  for 
indeed  you  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart." 

"  Saving  my  poor  honesty,"  said  I,  "  maybe  I 
am.  But  that  I  keep  faith  with  men,  and  honor 
with  women,  maybe  I  am,  my  lord." 

He  darted  a  glance  at  me — a  glance  of  anger. 

"  Is  your  mother  dead?  "  said  I. 


174  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

"  Aye,  she's  dead." 

"  She  may  thank  God,"  said  I,  and  I  heard  him 
curse  me  softly.  "  Well,  what's  the  message?  "  I 
continued. 

I  had  touched  him  in  the  raw,  for  all  the  world 
knew  he  had  broken  his  mother's  heart  and 
flaunted  his  mistresses  in  her  house;  and  his  airy 
manner  was  gone  for  the  moment. 

"  The  duke  offers  you  more  than  I  would,"  he 
growled.  "  A  halter  for  you,  sire,  was  my  sugges- 
tion. But  he  offers  you  safe-conduct  across  the 
frontier  and  a  million  crowns." 

"  I  prefer  your  offer,  my  lord,  if  I  am  bound  to 
one." 

"You  refuse?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  I  told  Michael  you  would;  "  and  the  villain,  his 
temper  restored,  gave  me  the  sunniest  of  smiles. 
"  The  fact  is,  between  ourselves,"  he  continued, 
"  Michael  doesn't  understand  a  gentleman." 

I  began  to  laugh. 

"And  you?"  I  asked. 

"  I  do,"  he  said.     "  Well,  well,  the  halter  be  it!  " 


AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        i?5 

"  I'm  sorry  you  won't  live  to  see  it,"  I  observed. 

"  Has  his  Majesty  done  me  the  honor  to  fasten  a 
particular  quarrel  on  me?  " 

"  I  would  you  were  a  few  years  older,  though." 

"  Oh,  God  gives  years,  but  the  devil  gives  in- 
crease," laughed  he.  "  I  can  hold  my  own." 

"  How  is  your  prisoner?  "  I  asked. 

«  The  k " 

"  Your  prisoner." 

"  I  forgot  your  wishes,  sire.     Well,  he  is  alive." 

He  rose  to  his  feet;  I  imitated  him.  Then,  with 
a  smile,  he  said: 

"  And  the  pretty  princess?  Faith,  I'll  wager  the 
next  Elphberg  will  be  red  enough,  for  all  that 
Black  Michael  will  be  called  his  father." 

I  sprang  a  step  toward  him,  clenching  my  hand. 
He  did  not  move  an  inch,  and  his  lip  curled  in  inso- 
lent amusement. 

"  Go,   while  your  skin's  whole!  "  --I   muttered. 

« 

He  had  repaid  me  with  interest  my  hit  about  his 
mother. 

Then  came  the  most  audacious  thing  I  have 
known  in  my  life.  My  friends  were  some  thirty 


I76  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

yards  away.  Rupert  called  to  a  groom  to  bring 
him  his  horse,  and  dismissed  the  fellow  with  a 
crown.  The  horse  stood  near.  I  stood  still,  sus- 
pecting nothing.  Rupert  made  as  though  to 
mount;  then  he  suddenly  turned  to  me,  his  left 
hand  resting  on  his  belt,  his  right  outstretched: 

"  Shake  hands,"  he  said. 

I  bowed,  and  did  as  he  had  foreseen — I  put  my 
hands  behind  me.  Quicker  than  thought  his  left 
hand  darted  out  at  me,  and  a  small  dagger  flashed 
in  the  air;  he  struck  me  in  the  left  shoulder — had  I 
not  swerved  it  had  been  my  heart.  With  a  cry  I 
staggered  back.  Without  touching  the  stirrup, 
he  leaped  upon  his  horse  and  was  off  like  an  arrow, 
pursued  by  cries  and  revolver  shots, — the  last  as 
useless  as  the  first, — and  I  sank  into  my  chair, 
bleeding  profusely,  as  I  watched  the  devil's  brat 
disappear  down  the  long  avenue.  My  friends  sur- 
rounded me>:and  then  I  fainted. 

I  suppose  that  I  was  put  to  bed,  and  there  lay 
unconscious  or  half  conscious  for  many  hours;  for 
it  was  night  when  I  awoke  to  my  full  mind,  and 
found  Fritz  beside  me.  I  was  weak  and  weary, 


AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        17? 

but  he  bade  me  be  of  good  cheer,  saying  that  my 
wound  would  soon  heal,  and  that  meanwhile  all 
had  gone  well,  for  Johann,  the  keeper,  had  fallen 
into  the  snare  we  had  laid  for  him,  and  was  even 
now  in  the  house. 

"  And  the  queer  thing  is,"  pursued  Fritz,  "  that 
I  fancy  he's  not  altogether  sorry  to  find  himself 
here.  He  seems  to  think  that,  when  Black  Michael 
has  brought  off  his  coup,  witnesses  of  how  it  was 
effected — saving,  of  course,  the  Six  themselves — 
will  not  be  at  a  premium." 

This  idea  argued  a  shrewdness  in  our  captive 
which  led  me  to  build  hopes  on  his  assistance.  I 
ordered  him  to  be  brought  in  at  once.  Sapt  con- 
ducted him,  and  set  him  in  a  chair  by  my  bedside. 
He  was  sullen  and  afraid;  but,  to  say  truth,  after 
young  Rupert's  exploit  we  also  had  our  fears,  and 
if  he  got  as  far  as  possible  from  Sapt's  formidable 
six-shooter,  Sapt  kept  him  as  far  as  he  could  from 
me.  Moreover,  when  he  came  in  his  hands  were 
bound,  but  that  I  would  not  suffer. 

I  need  not  stay  to  recount  the  safeguards  and  re- 
wards we  promised  the  fellow — all  of  which  were 


178  THE   PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

honorably  observed  and  paid,  so  that  he  lives  now 
in  prosperity  (though  where  I  may  not  mention); 
and  we  were  the  more  free  inasmuch  as  we  soon 
learned  that  he  was  rather  a  weak  man  than  a 
wicked,  and  had  acted  throughout  this  matter 
more  from  fear  of  the  duke  and  of  his  own  brother 
Max  than  for  any  love  of  what  was  done.  But  he 
had  persuaded  all  of  his  loyalty;  and  though  not  in 
their  secret  counsels,  was  yet,  by  his  knowledge  of 
their  dispositions  within  the  castle,  able  to  lay  bare 
before  us  the  very  heart  of  their  devices.  And 
here,  in  brief,  is  his  story : 

Below  the  level  of  the  ground  in  the  castle,  ap- 
proached by  a  flight  of  stone  steps  which  abutted 
on  the  end  of  the  drawbridge,  were  situated  two 
small  rooms,  cut  out  of  the  rock  itself.  The  outer 
of  the  two  had  no  windows,  but  was  always  lighted 
with  candles;  the  inner  had  one  square  window, 
which  gave  upon  the  moat.  In  this  inner  room 
there  lay  always,  day  and  night,  three  of  the  Six; 
and  the  instructions  of  Duke  Michael  were  that  on 
any  attack  being  made  on  the  outer  room  the  three 
were  to  defend  the  door  of  it  so  long  as  they  could 


AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        i?9 

without  risk  to  themselves.  But  so  soon  as  the 
door  should  be  in  danger  of  being  forced,  then  Ru- 
pert Hentzau  or  Detchard  (for  one  of  these  two 
was  always  there)  should  leave  the  others  to  hold  • 
it  as  long  as  they  could,  and  himself  pass  into  the 
inner  room,  and  without  more  ado  kill  the  king, 
who  lay  there,  well  treated  indeed,  but  without 
weapons,  and  with  his  arms  confined  in  fine  steel 
chains,  which  did  not  allow  him  to  move  his 
elbow  more  than  three  inches  from  his  shoulder. 
Thus,  before  the  outer  door  were  stormed,  the  king 
would  be  dead.  And  his  body?  For  his  body 
would  be  evidence  as  damning  as  himself. 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  Johann,  "  his  Highness  has 
thought  of  that.  While  the  two  hold  the  outer 
room  the  one  who  has  killed  the  king  unlocks  the 
bars  in  the  square  window  (they  turn  on  a  hinge). 
The  window  now  gives  no  light,  for  its  mouth  is 
choked  by  a  great  pipe  of  earthenware;  and  this 
pipe,  which  is  large  enough  to  let  pass  through  it 
the  body  of  a  man,  passes  into  the  moat,  coming  to 
an  end  immediately  above  the  surface  of  the  water, 
so  that  there  is  no  perceptible  interval  between 


l8o  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

water  and  pipe.  The  king  being  dead,  his  mur- 
derer swiftly  ties  a  weight  to  the  body,  and  drag- 
ging it  to  the  window,  raises  it  by  a  pulley  (for,  lest 
the  weight  should  prove  too  great,  Detchard  has 
provided  one)  till  it  is  level  with  the  mouth  of  the 
pipe.  He  inserts  the  feet  in  the  pipe,  and  pushes 
the  body  down.  Silently,  without  splash  or  sound, 
it  falls  into  the  water  and  thence  to  the  bottom  of 
the  moat,  which  is  twenty  feet  deep  thereabouts. 
This  done,  the  murderer  cries  loudly,  '  All's  well! ' 
and  himself  slides  down  the  pipe;  and  the  others,  if 
they  can  and  the  attack  is  not  too  hot,  run  to  the 
inner  room  and,  seeking  a  moment's  delay,  bar  the 
door,  and  in  their  turn  slide  down.  And  though 
the  king  rises  not  from  the  bottom,  they  rise  and 
swim  round  to  the  other  side,  where  the  orders  are 
for  men  to  wait  them  with  ropes,  to  haul  them  out, 
and  horses.  And  here,  if  things  go  ill,  the  duke 
will  join  them  and  seek  safety  by  riding;  but  if  all 
goes  well  they  will  return  to  the  castle,  and  have 
their  enemies  in  a  trap.  That,  sir,  is  the  plan  of 
his  Highness  for  the  disposal  of  the  king  in  case  of 
need.  But  it  is  not  to  be  used  till  the  last;  for,  as 


AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        181 

we  all  know,  he  is  not  minded  to  kill  the  king  unless 
he  can,  before  or  soon  after,  kill  you  also,  sir. 
Now,  sir,  I  have  spoken  the  truth,  as  God  is  my 
witness,  and  I  pray  you  to  shield  me  from  the  ven- 
geance of  Duke  Michael;  for  if,  after  he  knows 
what  I  have  done,  I  fall  into  his  hands,  I  shall  pray 
for  one  thing  out  of  all  the  world — a  speedy  death, 
and  that  I  shall  not  obtain  from  him! " 

The  fellow's  story  was  rudely  told,  but  our  ques- 
tions supplemented  his  narrative.  What  he  had 
told  us  applied  to  an  armed  attack;  but  if  suspi- 
cions were  aroused  and  there  came  overwhelming 
force — such,  for  instance,  as  I,  the  king,  could 
bring — the  idea  of  resistance  would  be  abandoned. 
The  king  would  be  quietly  murdered  and  slid  down 
the  pipe.  And — here  comes  an  ingenious  touch — 
one  of  the  Six  would  take  his  place  in  the  cell,  and 
on  the  entrance  of  the  searchers  loudly  demand  re- 
lease and  redress;  and  Michael,  being  summoned, 
would  confess  to  hasty  action,  but  he  would  say 
the  man  had  angered  him  by  seeking  the  favor  of 
a  lady  in  the  castle  (this  was  Antoinette  de  Mau- 
ban),  and  he  had  confined  him  there,  as  he  con- 


1 82  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

ceived  he,  as  Lord  of  Zenda,  had  a  right  to  do. 
But  he  was  now,  on  receiving  his  apology,  content 
to  let  him  go,  and  so  end  the  gossip  which,  to  his 
Highness'  annoyance,  had  arisen  concerning  a  pris- 
oner in  Zenda,  and  had  give  his  visitors  the  trouble 
of  this  inquiry.  The  visitors,  baffled,  would  retire, 
and  Michael  could,  at  his  leisure,  dispose  of  the 
body  of  the  king. 

Sapt,  Fritz,  and  I  in  my  bed  looked  round  on 
one  another  in  horror  and  bewilderment  at  the 
cruelty  and  cunning  of  the  plan.  Whether  I  went 
in  peace  or  in  war,  openly  at  the  head  of  a  corps,  or 
secretly  by  a  stealthy  assault,  the  king  would  be 
dead  before  I  could  come  near  him.  If  Michael 
were  stronger  and  overcame  my  party,  there  would 
be  an  end.  But  if  I  were  stronger,  I  should  have 
no  way  to  punish  him,  no  means  of  proving  any 
guilt  in  him  without  proving  my  own  guilt  also. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  should  be  left  as  king  (ah!  for 
a  moment  my  pulse  quickened),  and  it  would  be  for 
the  future  to  witness  the  final  struggle  between  him 
and  me.  He  seemed  to  have  made  triumph  pos- 
sible and  ruin  impossible.  At  the  worst  he  would 


JN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        183 

stand  where  he  had  stood  before  I  crossed  his  path 
—with  but  one  man  between  him  and  the  throne, 
and  that  man  an  impostor;  at  best  there  would  be 
none  left  to  stand  against  him.  I  had  begun  to 
think  that  Black  Michael  was  overfond  of  leaving 
the  righting  to  his  friends;  but  now  I  acknowledged 
that  the  brains,  if  not  the  arms,  of  the  conspiracy 
were  his. 

"  Does  the  king  know  this?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  and  my  brother,"  answered  Johann,  "  put  up 
the  pipe,  under  the  orders  of  my  Lord  of  Hentzau. 
He  was  on  guard  that  day,  and  the  king  asked  my 
lord  what  it  meant.  '  Faith,'  he  answered,  with  his 
airy  laugh,  '  it's  a  new  improvement  on  the  ladder 
of  Jacob,  whereby,  as  you  have  read,  sire,  men  pass 
from  earth  to  heaven.  We  thought  it  not  meet 
that  your  Majesty  should  go,  in  case,  sire,  you  must 
go,  by  the  common  route.  So  we  have  made  you 
a  pretty  private  passage,  where  the  vulgar  cannot 
stare  at  you  or  incommode  your  passage.  That, 
sire,  is  the  meaning  of  that  pipe.'  And  he  laughed 
and  bowed,  and  prayed  the  king's  leave  to  replenish 
the  king's  glass — for  the  king  was  at  supper.  And 


1 84  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

the  king,  though  he  is  a  brave  man,  as  are  all  of  his 
House,  grew  red  and  then  white  as  he  looked  on 
the  pipe  and  at  the  merry  devil  who  mocked  him. 
Ah,  sir," — and  the  fellow  shuddered, — "  it  is  not 
easy  to  sleep  quiet  in  the  castle  of  Zenda,  for  all  of 
them  would  as  soon  cut  a  man's  throat  as  play  a 
game  at  cards;  and  my  Lord  Rupert  would  choose 
it  sooner  for  a  pastime  than  any  other — aye,  sooner 
than  he  would  ruin  a  woman,  though  that  he  loves 
also." 

The  man  ceased,  and  I  bade  Fritz  take  him  away 
and  have  him  carefully  guarded;  and,  turning  to 
him,  I  added: 

"  If  anyone  asks  you  if  there  is  a  prisoner  in 
Zenda  you  may  answer  '  Yes.'  But  if  any  asks 
who  the  prisoner  is,  do  not  answer.  For  all  my 
promises  will  not  save  you  if  any  man  here  learns 
from  you  the  truth  as  to  the  prisoner  in  Zenda. 
I'll  kill  you  like  a  dog  if  the  thing  be  so  much  as 
breathed  within  the  house!  " 

Then,  when  he  was  gone,  I  looked  at  Sapt. 

"  It  is  a  hard  nut!"  said  I. 

"  So  hard,"  said  he,  shaking  his  grizzled  head. 


AN  IMPROVEMENT  ON  JACOB'S  LADDER.        185 

"  that,  as  I  think,  this  time  next  year  is  like  to  find 
you  still  King  of  Ruritania!  "  and  he  broke  out 
into  curses  on  Michael's  cunning. 

I  lay  back  on  my  pillows. 

"  There  seem  to  me,"  I  observed,  "  to  be  two 
ways  by  which  the  king  can  come  out  of  Zenda 
alive.  One  is  by  treachery  in  the  duke's  followers." 

"  You  can  leave  that  out,"  said  Sapt. 

"  I  hope  not,"  I  rejoined,  "  because  the  other 
I  was  about  to  mention  is — by  a  miracle  from 
Heaven!" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE  THE  CASTLE. 

IT  would  have  surprised  the  good  people  of 
Ruritania  to  know  the  foregoing  talk;  for,  accord- 
ing to  the  official  reports,  I  had  suffered  a  grievous 
and  dangerous  hurt  from  an  accidental  spear 
thrust,  received  in  the  course  of  my  sport.  I 
caused  the  bulletins  to  be  of  a  very  serious  char- 
acter, and  created  great  public  excitement  whereby 
three  things  occurred:  first,  I  gravely  offended 
the  medical  faculty  of  Strelsau  by  refusing  to 
summon  to  my  bedside  any  of  them  save  a 
young  man,  a  friend  of  Fritz's,  whom  we  could 
trust;  secondly,  I  received  word  from  Marshal 
Strakencz  that  my  orders  seemed  to  have  no 
more  weight  than  his,  and  that  the  Princess 
Flavia  was  leaving  for  the  Tarlenheim  under  his 
unwilling  escort  (news  whereat  I  strove  not  to  be 
glad  and  proud) ;  and  thirdly,  my  brother,  the  Duke 


A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE   THE  CASTLE.  187 

'  of  Strelsau,  although  too  well  informed  to  believe 
the  account  of  the  origin  of  my  sickness,  was  yet 
persuaded  by  the  reports  and  by  my  seeming  inac- 
tivity that  I  was  in  truth  incapable  of  action,  and 
that  my  life  was  in  some  danger.  This  I  learned 
from  the  man  Johann,  whom  I  was  compelled  to 
trust  and  send  back  to  Zenda,  where,  by  the  way, 
Rupert  Hentzau  had  him  soundly  flogged  for  dar- 
ing to  smirch  the  morals  of  Zenda  by  staying  out 
all  night  in  the  pursuits  of  love.  This,  from  Ru- 
pert, Johann  deeply  resented,  and  the  duke's  ap- 
proval of  it  did  more  to  bind  the  keeper  to  my  side 
than  all  my  promises. 

On  Flavia's  arrival  I  cannot  dwell.  Her  joy  at 
finding  me  up  and  well,  instead  of  on  my  back  and 
fighting  with  death,  makes  a  picture  that  even  now 
dances  before  my  eyes  till  they  grow  too  dim  to 
see  it;  and  her  reproaches  that  I  had  not  trusted 
even  her  must  excuse  the  means  I  took  to  quiet 
them.  In  truth,  to  have  her  with  me  once  more 
was  like  a  taste  of  heaven  to  a  damned  soul,  the 
sweeter  for  the  inevitable  doom  that  was  to  follow; 
and  I  rejoiced  in  being  able  to  waste  two  whole 


188  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

days  with  her.     And  when  I  had  wasted  two  days  * 
the  Duke  of  Strelsau  arranged  a  hunting  party. 

The  stroke  was  near  now.  For  Sapt  and  I,  after 
anxious  consultations,  had  resolved  that  we  must 
risk  a  blow;  our  resolution  being  clinched  by 
Johann's  news  that  the  king  grew  peaked,  pale,  and 
ill,  and  that  his  health  was  breaking  down  under  his 
rigorous  confinement.  Now  a  man — be  he  king  or 
no  king — may  as  well  die  swiftly,  and,  as  becomes 
a  gentleman,  from  bullet  or  thrust,  as  rot  his  life  out 
in  a  cellar!  That  thought  made  prompt  action  ad- 
visable in  the  interests  of  the  king;  from  my  own 
point  of  view  it  grew  more  and  more  necessary. 
For  Strakencz  urged  on  me  the  need  of  a  speedy 
marriage,  and  my  own  inclinations  seconded  him 
with  such  terrible  insistence  that  I  feared  for  my 
resolution.  I  do  not  believe  that  I  should  have 
done  the  deed  I  dreamt  of;  but  I  might  have  come 
to  flight,  and  my  flight  would  have  ruined  the 
cause.  And — yes,  I  am  no  saint  (ask  my  little  sis- 
ter-in-law)— and  worse  still  might  have  happened. 

It  is  perhaps  as  strange  a  thing  as  has  ever  been 
in  the  history  of  a  country  that  the  king's  brother 


A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE  THE  CASTLE.  189 

and  the  king's  personator,  in  a  time  of  profound 
outward  peace,  near  a  placid,  undisturbed  country 
town,  under  semblance  of  amity,  should  wage  a 
desperate  war  for  the  person  and  life  of  the  king. 
Yet  such  was  the  struggle  that  began  now  between 
Zenda  and  Tarlenheim.  When  I  look  back  on  the 
time  I  seem  to  myself  to  have  been  half  mad.  Sapt 
has  told  me  that  I  suffered  no  interference  and  lis- 
tened to  no  remonstrances;  and  if  ever  a  King  of 
Ruritania  ruled  like  a  despot  I  was,  in  those  days, 
the  man.  Look  where  I  would  I  saw  nothing  that 
made  life  sweet  to  me,  and  I  took  my  life  in  my 
hand  and  carried  it  carelessly  as  a  man  dangles  an 
old  glove.  At  first  they  strove  to  guard  me,  to 
keep  me  safe,  to  persuade  me  not  to  expose  myself; 
but  when  they  saw  how  I  was  set  there  grew  up 
among  them — whether  they  knew  the  truth  or  not 
— a  feeling  that  Fate  ruled  the  issue,  and  that  I 
must  be  left  to  play  my  game  with  Michael  my  own 
way. 

Late  next  night  I  rose  from  table,  where  Flavia 
had  sat  by  me,  and  conducted  her  to  the  door  of  her 
apartments.  There  I  kissed  her  hand,  and  bade 


1 90  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/i. 

her  sleep  sound  and  wake  to  happy  days.  Then 
I  changed  my  clothes  and  went  out.  Sapt  and 
Fritz  were  waiting  for  me  with  three  men  and  the 
horses.  Over  his  saddle  Sapt  carried  a  long  coil  of 
rope,  and  both  were  heavily  armed.  I  had  with  me 
a  short  stout  cudgel  and  a  long  knife.  Making  a 
circuit,  we  avoided  the  town,  and  in  an  hour  found 
ourselves  slowly  mounting  the  hill  that  led  to  the 
castle  of  Zenda.  The  night  was  dark  and  very 
stormy;  gusts  of  wind  and  spits  of  rain  caught  us  as 
we  breasted  the  incline,  and  the  great  trees  moaned 
and  sighed.  When  we  came  to  a  thick  clump, 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  castle,  we  bade 
our  three  friends  hide  there  with  the  horses.  Sapt 
had  a  whistle,  and  they  could  rejoin  us  in  a  few  mo- 
ments if  danger  came:  but  up  till  now  we  had  met 
no  one.  I  hoped  that  Michael  was  still  off  his 
guard,  believing  me  to  be  safe  in  bed.  However 
that  might  be,  we  gained  the  top  of  the  hill  without 
accident,  and  found  ourselves  on  the  edge  of  the 
moat  where  it  sweeps  under  the  road,  separating 
the  old  castle  from  it.  A  tree  stood  on  the  edge  of 
the  bank,  and  Sapt  silently  and  diligently  set  to 


'• 

A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE   THE   CASTLE  19* 

make  fast  the  rope.  I  stripped  off  my  boots,  took 
a  pull  at  a  flask  of  brandy,  loosened  the  knife  in  its 
sheath,  and  took  the  cudgel  between  my  teeth. 
Then  I  shook  hands  with  my  friends,  not  heeding 
a  last  look  of  entreaty  from  Fritz,  and  laid  hold  of 
the  rope.  I  was  going  to  have  a  look  at  Jacob's 
ladder. 

Gently  I  lowered  myself  into  the  water.  Though 
the  night  were  wild,  the  day  had  been  warm  and 
bright  and  the  water  was  not  cold.  I  struck  out 
and  began  to  swim  round  the  great  walls  which 
frowned  above  me.  I  could  see  only  three  yards 
ahead.  I  had  then  good  hopes  of  not  being  seen, 
as  I  crept  along  close  under  the  damp,  moss-grown 
masonry.  There  were  lights  from  the  new  part  of 
the  castle  on  the  other  side,  and  now  and  again  I 
heard  laughter  and  merry  shouts.  I  fancied  I 
recognized  young  Rupert  Hcntzau's  ringing  tones, 
and  pictured  him  flushed  with  wine.  Recalling  my 
thoughts  to  the  business  in  hand,  I  rested  a  mo- 
ment. If  Johann's  description  were  right  I  must 
be  near  the  window  now.  Very  slowly  I  moved; 
and  out  of  the  darkness  ahead  loomed  a  shape.  It 


192  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/t. 

was  the  pipe,  curving  from  the  window  to  the 
water.  About  two  feet  of  its  surface  was  displayed; 
it  was  as  big  round  as  two  men.  I  was  about  to 
approach  it  when  I  saw  something  else,  and  my 
heart  stood  still.  The  nose  of  a  boat  protruded 
beyond  the  pipe  on  the  other  side;  and  listening  in- 
tently, I  heard  a  slight  shuffle — as  of  a  man  shifting 
his  position.  Who  was  the  man  who  guarded 
Michael's  invention?  Was  he  awake  or  was  he 
asleep?  I  felt  if  my  knife  were  ready,  and  trod 
water.  As  I  did  so  I  found  bottom  under  my  feet. 
The  foundations  of  the  castle  extended  some  fifteen 
inches,  making  a  ledge; -and  I  stood  on  it,  out  of 
water  from  my  armpits  upward.  Then  I  crouched 
and  peered  through  the  darkness  under  the  pipe, 
where,  curving,  it  left  a  space. 

There  was  a  man  in  the  boat.  A  rifle  lay  by 
him — I  saw  the  gleam  of  the  barrel.  Here  was  the 
sentinel!  He  sat  very  still.  I  listened:  he  breathed 
heavily,  regularly,  monotonously.  By  Heaven,  he 
slept!  Kneeling  on  the  shelf,  I  drew  forward  under 
the  pipe  till  my  face  was  within  two  feet  of  his.  He 
was  a  big  man,  I  saw.  It  was  Max  Holf,  the 


A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE   THE  CASTLE.  193 

brother  of  Johann.  My  hand  stole  to  my  belt,  and 
I  drew  out  my  knife.  Of  all  the  deeds  of  my  life  I 
love  the  least  to  think  of  this,  and  whether  it  was 
the  act  of  a  man  or  a  traitor  I  will  not  ask.  I  said 
to  myself:  "  It  is  war — and  the  king's  life  is  the 
stake."  And  I  raised  myself  from  beneath  the 
pipe  and  stood  up  by  the  boat,  which  lay  moored 
by  the  ledge.  Holding  my  breath,  I  marked  the 
spot  and  raised  my  arm.  The  great  fellow  stirred. 
He  opened  his  eyes — wide,  wider.  He  gasped  in 
terror  at  my  face  and  clutched  at  his  rifle.  I  struck 
home.  And  I  heard  the  chorus  of  a  love-song 
from  the  opposite  bank. 

Leaving  him  where  he  lay,  a  huddled  mass,  I 
turned  to  "Jac°b's  ladder."  My  time  was  short. 
This  fellow's  turn  of  watching  might  be  over  di- 
rectly, and  relief  would  come.  Leaning  over  the 
pipe,  I  examined  it,  from  the  point  it  left  the  water 
to  the  topmost  extremity  where  it  passed,  or 
seemed  to  pass,  through  the  masonry  of  the  wall. 
There  was  no  break  in  it,  no  chink.  Dropping  on 
my  knees,  I  tested  the  under  side.  And  my  breath 
went  quick  and  fast,  for  on  this  lower  side,  where 


194  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND A. 

the  pipe  should  have  clung  close  to  the  masonry, 
there  was  a  gleam  of  light!  That  light  must  come 
from  the  cell  of  the  king!  I  set  my  shoulder 
against  the  pipe  and  exerted  my  strength.  The 
chink  widened  a  very,  very  little,  and  hastily  I  de- 
sisted; I  had  done  enough  to  show  that  the  pipe 
was  not  fixed  in  the  masonry  at  the  lower  side. 

Then  I  heard  a  voice — a  harsh,  grating  voice. 

"  Well,  sire,  if  you  have  had  enough  of  my 
society  I  will  leave  you  to  repose;  but  I  must  fasten 
the  little  ornaments  first." 

It  was  Detchard!  I  caught  the  English  accent 
in  a  moment. 

"Have  you  anything  to  ask,  sire,  before  we 
part?" 

The  king's  voice  followed.  It  was  his,  though 
it  was  faint  and  hollow — different  from  the  merry 
tones  I  had  heard  in  the  glades  of  the  forest. 

"  Pray  my  brother,"  said  the  king,  "  to  kill  me. 
I  am  dying  by  inches  here." 

"  The  duke  does  not  desire  your  death,  sire — 
yet,"  sneered  Detchard;  "when  he  does,  behold 
your  path  to  heaven!  " 


A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE   THE  CASTLE.  195 

The  king  answered: 

"  So  be  it !  And  now,  if  your  orders  allow  it, 
pray  leave  me." 

"  May  you  dream  of  paradise!  "  said  the  ruffian. 

The  light  disappeared.  I  heard  the  bolts  of  the 
door  run  home.  And  then  I  heard  the  sobs  of  the 
king.  He  was  alone,  as  he  thought.  Who  dares 
mock  at  him? 

I  did  not  venture  to  speak  to  him.  The  risk  of 
some  exclamation  escaping  him  in  surprise  was  too 
great.  I  dared  do  nothing  that  night;  and  my  task 
now  was  to  get  myself  away  in  safety,  and  to  carry 
off  the  carcass  of  the  dead  man.  To  leave  him 
there  would  tell  too  much.  Casting  loose  the  boat, 
I  got  in.  The  wind  was  blowing  a  gale  now,  and 
there  was  little  danger  of  oars  being  heard.  I 
rowed  swiftly  round  to  where  my  friends  waited. 
I  had  just  reached  the  spot  when  a  loud  whistle 
sounded  over  the  moat  behind  me. 

"  Hullo,  Max!  "  I  heard  shouted. 

I  hailed  Sapt  in  a  low  tone.  The  rope  came 
down.  I  tied  it  round  the  corpse,  and  then  went 
up  it  myself. 


I96  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/1. 

"  Whistle  you,  too,"  I  whispered,  "  for  our  men, 
and  haul  in  the  line.  No  talk  now." 

They  hauled  up  the  body.  Just  as  it  reached  the 
road  three  men  on  horseback  swept  round  from  the 
front  of  the  castle.  We  saw  them;  but,  being  on 
foot  ourselves,  we  escaped  their  notice.  But  we 
heard  our  men  coming  up  with  a  shout. 

'  The  devil,  but  it's  dark!  "  cried  a  ringing  voice. 

It  was  young  Rupert.  A  moment  later  shots 
rang  out.  Our  people  had  met  them.  I  started 
forward  at  a  run,  Sapt  and  Fritz  following  me. 

'Thrust,  thrust!"  cried  Rupert  again,  and  a 
loud  groan  following  told  that  he  himself  was  not 
behindhand. 

"  I'm  done,  Rupert!  "  cried  a  voice.  '  They're 
three  to  one.  Save  yourself!  " 

I  ran  on,  holding  my  cudgel  in  my  hand.  Sud- 
denly a  horse  came  toward  me.  A  man  was  on  it, 
leaning  over  the  shoulder. 

"  Are  you  cooked  too,  Kraf stein?  "  he  cried. 

There  was  no  answer. 

I  sprang  to  the  horse's  head.  It  was  Rupert 
Hentzau. 


A  NIGHT  OUTSIDE  THE  C/tSTLE.  197 

"At  last!"  I  cried. 

For  we  seemed  to  have  him.  He  had  only  his 
sword  in  his  hand.  My  men  were  hot  upon  him; 
Sapt  and  Fritz  were  running  up.  I  had  outstripped 
them;  but  if  they  got  close  enough  to  fire  he  must 
die  or  surrender. 

"At  last!"  I  cried. 

"  It's  the  play-actor!  "  cried  he,  slashing  at  my 
cudgel.  He  cut  it  clean  in  two;  and,  judging  dis- 
cretion better  than  death,  I  ducked  my  head  and 
(I  blush  to  tell)  scampered  for  my  life.  The  devil 
was  in  Rupert  Hentzau;  for  he  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  I,  turning  to  look,  saw  him  ride,  full 
gallop,  to  the  edge  of  the  moat  and  leap  in,  while 
the  shots  of  our  party  fell  thick  round  him  like  hail. 
With  one  gleam  of  moonlight  we  should  have 
riddled  him  with  balls;  but  in  the  darkness  he  won 
to  the  corner  of  the  castle,  and  vanished  from  our 
sight. 

"  The  deuce  take  him!  "  grinned  Sapt. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  I,  "  that  he's  a  villain.  Whom 
have  we  got?  " 

We  had  Lauengram  and  Krafstein:  they  lay  stiff 


I98  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

and  dead;  and,  concealment  being  no  longer  pos- 
sible, we  flung  them,  with  Max,  into  the  moat;  and, 
drawing  together  in  a  compact  body,  rode  off  down 
the  hill.  And  in  our  midst  went  the  bodies  of  four 
gallant  gentlemen.  Thus  we  traveled  home,  heavy 
at  heart  for  the  death  of  our  friends,  sore  uneasy 
concerning  the  king,  and  cut  to  the  quick  that 
young  Rupert  had  played  yet  another  winning 
hand  with  us. 

For  my  own  part  I  was  vexed  and  angry  that  I 
had  killed  no  man  in  open  fight,  but  only  stabbed 
a  knave  in  his  sleep.  And  I  did  not  love  to  hear 
Rupert  call  me  a  play-actor. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

I  TALK  WITH  A  TEMPTER. 

RURITANIA  is  not  England,  or  the  quarrel  be- 
tween Duke  Michael  and  myself  could  not  have 
gone  on,  with  the  remarkable  incidents  which 
marked  it,  without  more  public  notice  being  di- 
rected to  it.  Duels  were  frequent  among  all  the 
upper  classes,  and  private  quarrels  between  great 
men  kept  the  old  habit  of  spreading  to  their  friends 
and  dependents.  Nevertheless,  after  the  affray 
which  I  have  just  related,  such  reports  began  to 
circulate  that  I  felt  it  necessary  to  be  on  my  guard. 
The  death  of  the  gentlemen  involved  could  not  be 
hidden  from  their  relatives.  I  issued  a  stern  order, 
declaring  that  dueling  had  attained  unprecedented 
license  (the  chancellor  drew  up  the  document  for 
me,  and  very  well  he  did  it),  and  forbidding  it  save 
in  the  gravest  cases.  I  sent  a  public  and  stately 
apology  to  Michael,  and  he  returned  a  deferential 


200  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/I. 

and  courteous  reply  to  me;  for  our  one  point  of 
union  was — and  it  underlay  all  our  differences  and 
induced  an  unwilling  harmony  between  our  actions 
— that  we  could  neither  of  us  afford  to  throw  our 
cards  on  the  table.  He,  as  well  as  I,  was  a  "  play- 
actor," and,  hating  one  another,  we  combined  to 
dupe  public  opinion.  Unfortunately,  however,  the 
necessity  for  concealment  involved  the  necessity  of 
delay:  the  king  might  die  in  his  prison,  or  even  be 
spirited  off  somewhere  else — it  could  not  be  helped. 
For  a  little  while  I  was  compelled  to  observe  a 
truce,  and  my  only  consolation  was  that  Flavia 
most  warmly  approved  of  my  edict  against  dueling; 
and  when  I  expressed  delight  at  having  won  her 
favor,  prayed  me,  if  her  favor  were  any  motive  to 
me,  to  prohibit  the  practice  altogether. 

"  Wait  till  we  are  married,"  said  I,  smiling. 

Not  the  least  peculiar  result  of  the  truce  and  of 
the  secrecy  which  dictated  it  was  that  the  town  of 
Zenda  became  in  the  daytime — I  would  not  have 
trusted  far  to  its  protection  by  night — a  sort  of 
neutral  zone,  where  both  parties  could  safely  go; 
and  I,  riding  down  one  day  with  Flava  and  Sapt, 


/  TALK  WITH  A  TEMPTER.  201 

had  an  encounter  with  an  acquaintance,  which  pre- 
sented a  ludicrous  side,  but  was  at  the  same  time 
embarrassing.  As  I  rode  along  I  met  a  dignified- 
looking  person  driving  in  a  two-horsed  carriage. 
He  stopped  his  horses,  got  out,  and  approached 
me,  bowing  low.  I  recognized  the  head  of  the 
Strelsau  police. 

'*  Your  Majesty's  ordinance  as  to  dueling  is  re- 
ceiving our  best  attention,"  he  assured  me. 

If  the  best  attention  involved  his  presence  in 
Zenda  I  determined  at  once  to  dispense  with  it. 

"  Is  that  what  brings  you  to  Zenda,  prefect?  "  I 
asked. 

"Why,  no,  sire;  I  am  here  because  I  desired  to 
oblige  the  British  ambassador." 

"  What's  the  British  ambassador  doing  dans 
cette  galeref  "  said  I  carelessly. 

"  A  young  countryman  of  his,  sire — a  man  of 
some  position — is  missing.  His  friends  have  not 
heard  from  him  for  two  months,  and  there  is  rea- 
son to  believe  that  he  was  last  seen  in  Zenda." 

Flavia  was  paying  little  attention.  I  dared  not 
look  at  Sapt. 


202  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

"  What  reason?  " 

"  A  friend  of  his  in  Paris — a  certain  M.  Featherly 
— has  given  us  information  which  makes  it  pos- 
sible that  he  came  here,  and  the  officials  of  the  rail- 
way recollect  his  name  on  some  luggage." 

"  What  was  his  name?  " 

"  Rassendyll,  sire,"  he  answered;  and  I  saw  that 
the  name  meant  nothing  to  him.  But,  glancing  at 
Flavia,  he  lowered  his  voice  as  he  went  on:  "  It  is 
thought  that  he  may  have  followed  a  lady  here. 
Has  your  Majesty  heard  of  a  certain  Mme.  de 
Mauban?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  I,  my  eye  involuntarily  travel- 
ing toward  the  castle.  "  She  arrived  in  Ruritania 
about  the  same  time  as  this  Rassendyll." 

I  caught  the  prefect's  glance;  he  was  regarding 
me  with  inquiry  writ  large  on  his  face. 

"  Sapt,"  said  I,  "  I  must  speak  a  word  to  the  pre- 
fect. Will  you  ride  on  a  few  paces  with  the  prin- 
cess? "  And  I  added  to  the  prefect:  "  Come,  sir, 
what  do  you  mean?  " 

He  drew  close  to  me,  and  I  bent  in  the  saddle. 

"  If    he    were    in    love    with    the    lady? "    he 


/  TALK  WITH  A   TEMPTER.  203 

whispered.  "  Nothing  has  been  heard  of  him  for 
two  months;  "  and  this  time  it  was  the  eye  of  the 
prefect  which  traveled  toward  the  castle. 

"  Yes,  the  lady  is  there,"  I  said  quietly.  "  But 
I  don't  suppose  Mr.  Rassendyll — is  that  the  name? 
—is." 

"  The  duke,"  he  whispered,  "  does  not  like  rivals, 
sire." 

"  You're  right  there,"  said  I,  with  all  sin- 
cerity. "  But  surely  you  hint  at  a  very  grave 
charge." 

He  spread  his  hands  out  in  apology.  I  whis- 
pered in  his  ear: 

"  This  is  a  grave  matter.  Go  back  to  Strel- 
sau " 

"  But,  sire,  if  I  have  a  clew  here?  " 

"  Go  back  to  Strelsau,"  I  repeated.  "  Tell  the 
ambassador  that  you  have  a  clew,  but  that  you 
must  be  left  alone  for  a  week  or  two.  Mean- 
while I'll  charge  myself  with  looking  into  the 
matter." 

"  The  ambassador  is  very  pressing,  sire." 

"  You  must  quiet  him.     Come,  sir;  you  see  that, 


204  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

if  your  supicions  are  correct,  it  is  an  affair  in  which 
we  must  move  with  caution.  We  can  have  no 
scandal.  Mind  you  return  to-night." 

He  promised  to  obey  me,  and  I  rode  on  to  rejoin 
my  companions,  a  little  easier  in  my  mind.  In- 
quiries after  me  must  be  stopped  at  all  hazards 
for  a  week  or  two;  and  this  clever  official  had  come 
surprisingly  near  the  truth.  His  impression  might 
be  useful  some  day,  but  if  he  acted  on  it  now  it 
might  mean  the  worst  to  the  king.  Heartily  did 
I  curse  George  Featherly  for  not  holding  his 
tongue. 

"  Well,"  asked  Flavia,  "  have  you  finished  your 
business?  " 

"  Most  satisfactorily,"  said  I.  "  Come,  shall  we 
turn  round?  We  are  almost  trenching  on  my 
brother's  territory." 

We  were,  in  fact,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  town, 
just  where  the  hill  begins  to  mount  toward  the 
castle.  We  cast  our  eyes  up,  admiring  the  massive 
beauty  of  the  old  walls,  and  we  saw  a  cortege  wind- 
ing slowly  down  the  hill.  On  it  came. 

"  Let  us  go  back,"  said  Sapt. 


/   TALK   WITH  A   TEMPTER.  205 

"  I  should  like  to  stay,"  said  Flavia;  and  I  reined 
my  horse  beside  hers. 

We  could  distinguish  the  approaching  party 
now.  There  came  first  two  mounted  servants  in 
black  uniforms,  relieved  only  by  a  silver  badge. 
These  were  followed  by  a  car  drawn  by  four  horses : 
on  it,  under  a  heavy  pall,  lay  a  coffin ;  behind  it  rode 
a  man  in  plain  black  clothes,  carrying  his  hat  in 
his  hand.  Sapt  uncovered,  and  we  stood  waiting, 
Flavia  keeping  by  me  and  laying  her  hand  on  my 
arm. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  gentlemen  killed  in  the  quarrel, 
I  expect,"  she  said. 

I  beckoned  to  a  groom. 

"  Ride  and  ask  whom  they  escort,"  I  ordered. 

He  rode  up  to  the  servants,  and  I  saw  him  pass 
on  to  the  gentleman  who  rode  behind. 

"  It's  Rupert  of  Hentzau,"  whispered  Sapt. 

Rupert  it  was,  and  directly  afterward,  waving  to 
the  procession  to  stand  still,  Rupert  trotted  up  to 
me.  He  was  in  a  frock  coat,  tightly  buttoned,  and 
trousers.  He  wore  an  aspect  of  sadness,  and  he 
bowed  with  profound  respect.  Yet  suddenly  he 


206  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

smiled,  and  I  smiled  too,  for  old  Sapt's  hand 
lay  in  his  left  breast  pocket,  and  Rupert  and  I 
both  guessed  what  lay  in  the  hand  inside  the 
pocket. 

''  Your  Majesty  asks  whom  we  escort,"  said 
Rupert.  "  It  is  my  dear  friend  Albert  of  Lauen- 
gram." 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  no  one  regrets  the  unfortunate 
affair  more  than  I.  My  ordinance,  which  I  mean 
to  have  obeyed,  is  witness  to  it." 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Flavia  softly,  and  I  saw 
Rupert's  eyes  flash  at  her.  Whereat  I  grew  red; 
for  if  I  had  my  way  Rupert  Hentzau  should  not 
have  defiled  her  by  so  much  as  a  glance.  Yet  he 
did  it,  and  dared  to  let  admiration  be  seen  in  his 
look. 

"  Your  Majesty's  words  are  gracious,"  he  said. 
"  I  grieve  for  my  friend.  Yet,  sire,  others  must 
soon  lie  as  he  lies  now." 

"  It  is  a  thing  we  all  do  well  to  remember,  my 
lord,"  I  rejoined. 

"  Even  kings,  sire,"  said  Rupert  in  a  moralizing 
tone;  and  old  Sapt  swore  softly  by  my  side. 


/   TALK  WITH  A    TEMPTER.  207 

"  It  is  true,"  said  I.  "  How  fares  my  brother, 
my  lord?" 

"  He  is  better,  sire." 

"  I  am  rejoiced." 

"  He  hopes  soon  to  leave  for  Strelsau,  when  his 
health  is  secured." 

"  He  is  only  convalescent,  then?  " 

"  There  remain  one  or  two  smill  troubles,"  an- 
swered the  insolent  fellow  in  the  mildest  tone  in  the 
world. 

"  Express  my  earnest  hope,"  said  Flavia,  "  that 
they  may  soon  cease  to  trouble  him." 

"  Your  Royal  Highness'  wish  is,  humbly,  my 
own,"  said  Rupert  with  a  bold  glance  that  brought 
a  blush  to  Flavia's  cheek. 

I  bowed;  and  Rupert,  bowing  lower,  backed  his 
horse  and  signed  his  party  to  proceed.  With  a 
sudden  impulse  I  rode  after  him.  He  turned 
swiftly,  fearing  that,  even  in  the  presence  of 
the  dead  and  before  a  lady's  eyes,  I  meant  mis- 
chief. 

"  You  fought  as  a  brave  man  the  other  night," 
I  said.  "  Come,  you  are  young,  sir.  If  you  will 


208  JHE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

deliver  your  prisoner  alive  to  me  you  shall  conic 
to  no  hurt." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  mocking  smile;  but  sud- 
denly he  rode  nearer  to  me. 

"I'm  unarmed,"  he  said;  "and  our  old  Sapt 
there  could  pick  me  off  in  a  minute." 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  said  I. 

"  No,  curse  you!  "  he  answered.  "  Look  here, 
I  made  you  a  proposal  from  the  duke  once." 

"  I'll  hear  nothing  from  Black  Michael," 
said  I. 

"  Then  hear  one  from  me."  He  lowered  his 
voice  to  a  whisper.  "  Attack  the  castle  boldly. 
Let  Sapt  and  Tarlenheim  lead." 

"  Go  on,"  said  I. 

"  Arrange  the  time  with  me." 

"  I  have  such  confidence  in  you,  my  lord !  " 

"Tut!  I'm  talking  business  now.  Sapt  there 
and  Fritz  will  fall;  Black  Michael  will  fall " 

"What!" 

"  Black  Michael  will  fall,  like  the  dog  he  is;  the 
prisoner,  as  you  call  him,  will  go  by  Jacob's  lad- 
der— ah,  you  know  that? — to  hell!  Two  men  will 


/   TALK  WITH  A   TEMPTER.  209 

be  left — I,  Rupert  Hentzau,  and  you,  the  King  of 
Ruritania." 

He  paused,  and  then,  in  a  voice  that  quivered 
with  eagerness,  added: 

"  Isn't  that  a  hand  to  play? — a  throne  and  yon 
princess!  And  for  me,  say  a  competence  and  your 
Majesty's  gratitude." 

"  Surely,"  I  exclaimed,  "  while  you're  above 
ground  hell  wants  its  master!  " 

"  Well,  think  it  over,"  he  said.  "  And,  look  you, 
it  would  take  more  than  a  scruple  or  two  to  keep 
me  from  yonder  girl,"  and  his  evil  eyes  flashed 
again  at  her  I  loved. 

"Get  out  of  my  reach!"  said  I;  and  yet  in  a 
moment  I  began  to  laugh  for  the  very  audacity 
of  it. 

"  Would  you  turn  against  your  master? "  I 
asked. 

He  swore  at  Michael  for  being  what  the  offspring 
of  a  legal,  though  morganatic,  union  should  not  be 
called,  and  said  to  me  in  an  almost  confidential  and 
apparently  friendly  tone: 

"  He  gets  in  my  way,  you  know.     He's  a  jeal- 


2io  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

ous  brute!  Faith,  I  nearly  stuck  a  knife  into  him 
last  night;  he  came  most  cursedly  mal  apropos!  " 

My  temper  was  well  under  control  now;  I  was 
learning  something. 

"  A  lady?  "  I  asked  negligently. 

"  Aye,  and  a  beauty,"  he  nodded.  "  But  you've 
seen  her." 

"  Ah!  was  it  at  a  tea  party,  when  some  of  your 
friends  got  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  table?  " 

"  What  can  you  expect  of  fools  like  Detchard 
and  De  Gautet?  I  wish  I'd  been  there." 

"  And  the  duke  interferes?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Rupert  meditatively,  "  that's  hardly 
a  fair  way  of  putting  it,  perhaps.  I  want  to 
interfere." 

"  And  she  prefers  the  duke?  " 

"Aye,  the  silly  creature!  Ah,  well!  you  think 
about  my  plan;  "  and,  with  a  bow,  he  pricked  his 
horse  and  trotted  after  the  body  of  his  friend. 

I  went  back  to  Flavia  and  Sapt,  pondering  on  the 
strangeness  of  the  man.  Wicked  men  I  have 
known  in  plenty,  but  Rupert  Hentzau  remains 
unique  in  my  experience.  And  if  there  be  another 


/  TALK   WITH  A   TEMPTER.  2H 

anywhere,  let  him  be  caught  and  hanged  out  of 
hand.  So  say  I! 

"  He's  very  handsome,  isn't  he?  "  said  Flavia. 

Well,  of  course  she  didn't  know  him  as  I  did;  yet 
I  was  put  out,  for  I  thought  his  bold  glances  would 
have  made  her  angry.  But  my  dear  Flavia  was  a 
woman,  and  so — she  was  not  put  out.  On  the 
contrary,  she  thought  young  Rupert  was  very 
handsome — as,  beyond  question,  the  ruffian  was. 

"  And  how  sad  he  looked  at  his  friend's  death!  " 
said  she. 

"  He'll  have  better  reason  to  be  sad  at  his  own," 
observed  Sapt,  with  a  grim  smile. 

As  for  me,  I  grew  sulky;  unreasonable  it  was, 
perhaps,  for  what  better  business  had  I  to  look  at 
her  with  love  than  had  even  Rupert's  lustful  eyes? 
And  sulky  I  remained  till,  as  evening  fell  and  we 
rode  up  to  Tarlenheim,  Sapt  having  fallen  behind 
in  case  anyone  should  be  following  us,  Flavia,  rid- 
ing close  beside  me,  said  softly,  with  a  little  half- 
ashamed  laugh: 

"  Unless  you  smile,  Rudolf,  I  cry.  Why  are  you 
angry?  " 


212  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

"  It  was  something  that  fellow  said  to  me,"  said 
I;  but  I  was  smiling  as  we  reached  the  doors  and 
dismounted. 

There  a  servant  handed  me  a  note;  it  was  un- 
addressed. 

"  Is  it  for  me?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  sire;  a  boy  brought  it." 

I  tore  it  open : 

Johann  carries  this  for  me,  I  warned  you  once.  In  the  name 
of  God,  and  if  you  are  a  man,  rescue  me  from  this  den  of  mur- 
derers ! 

A.  DE  M. 

I  handed  it  to  Sapt;  but  all  that  the  tough  old 
soul  said  in  reply  to  this  piteous  appeal  was: 

"  Whose  fault  brought  her  there?  " 

Nevertheless,  not  being  faultless  myself,  I  took 
leave  to  pity  Antoinette  de  Mauban. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   DESPERATE  PLAN. 

As  I  had  ridden  publicly  in  Zenda,  and  had  talked 
there  with  Rupert  Hentzau,  of  course  all  pretense 
of  illness  was  at  an  end.  I  marked  the  effect  on 
the  garrison  of  Zenda:  they  ceased  to  be  seen 
abroad;  and  any  of  my  men  who  went  near  the 
castle  reported  that  the  utmost  vigilance  prevailed 
there.  Touched  as  I  was  by  Mme.  de  Mauban's 
appeal,  I  seemed  as  powerless  to  befriend  her  as  I 
had  proved  to  help  the  king.  Michael  bade  me  de- 
fiance ;  and — although  he  too  had  been  seen  outside 
the  walls — with  more  disregard  for  appearances 
than  he  had  hitherto  shown,  he  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  send  any  excuse  for  his  failure  to  wait  on 
the  king.  Time  ran  on  in  inactivity,  when  every 
moment  was  pressing;  for  not  only  was  I  faced  with 
the  new  danger  which  the  stir  about  my  own  dis- 
appearance brought  on  me,  but  great  murmurs  had 


214  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

arisen  in  Strelsau  at  my  continued  absence  from  the 
city.  They  had  been  greater  but  for  the  knowl- 
edge that  Flavia  was  with  me ;  and  for  this  reason 
I  suffered  her  to  stay,  though  I  hated  to  have  her 
where  danger  was,  and  though  every  day  of  our 
present  sweet  intercourse  strained  my  endurance 
almost  to  breaking.  As  a  final  blow  nothing 
would  content  my  advisers,  Strakencz  and  the 
chancellor  (who  came  out  from  Strelsau  to  make 
an  urgent  representation  to  me),  save  that  I  should 
appoint  a  day  for  the  public  solemnization  of  my 
betrothal,  a  ceremony  which  in  Ruritania  is  well- 
nigh  as  binding  and  great  a  thing  as  marriage  itself. 
And  this — with  Flavia  sitting  by  me — I  was  forced 
to  do,  setting  a  date  a  fortnight  ahead,  and  appoint- 
ing the  cathedral  in  Strelsau  as  the  place.  And 
this  formal  act,  being  published  far  and  wide,  caused 
great  joy  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  was  the 
talk  of  all  tongues;  so  that  I  reckoned  there  were 
but  two  men  who  chafed  at  it — I  mean  Black 
Michael  and  myself;  and  but  one  who  did  not  know 
of  it — that  one  the  man  whose  name  I  bore,  the 
King  of  Ruritania. 


A  DESPERATE  PLAN.  215 

In  truth,  I  heard  something  of  the  way  the  news 
was  received  in  the  castle;  for,  after  an  interval  of 
three  days,  the  man  Johann,  greedy  for  more  money, 
though  fearful  for  his  life,  again  found  means  to 
visit  us.  He  had  been  waiting  on  the  duke  when 
the  tidings  came.  Black  Michael's  face  had  grown 
blacker  still,  and  he  had  sworn  savagely;  nor  was 
he  better  pleased  when  young  Rupert  took  oath 
that  I  meant  to  do  as  I  said,  and  turning  to  Mme. 
de  Mauban,  wished  her  joy  on  a  rival  gone. 
Michael's  hand  stole  toward  his  sword  (said 
Johann),  but  not  a  bit  did  Rupert  care;  for  he  ral- 
lied the  duke  on  my  having  made  a  better  king  than 
had  reigned  for  years  past  in  Ruritania.  "  And," 
said  he,  with  a  meaning  bow  to  his  exasperated 
master,  "  the  devil  sends  the  princess  a  finer  man 
than  Heaven  had  marked  out  for  her;  by  my  soul, 
he  does!"  Then  Michael  harshly  bade  him  hold 
his  tongue  and  leave  them;  but  Rupert  must  needs 
first  kiss  madame's  hand,  which  he  did  as  though  he 
loved  her,  while  Michael  glared  at  him. 

This  was  the  lighter  side  of  the  fellow's  news; 
but  more  serious  came  behind,  and  it  was  plain  that, 


216  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

if  time  pressed  at  Tarlenheim,  it  pressed  none  the 
less  fiercely  at  Zenda.  For  the  king  was  very  sick; 
Johann  had  seen  him,  and  he  was  wasted  and  hardly 
able  to  move.  "  There  could  be  no  thought  of 
taking  another  for  him  now."  So  alarmed  were 
they  that  they  had  sent  for  a  physician  from  Strel- 
sau;  and  the  physician,  having  been  introduced 
into  the  king's  cell,  had  come  forth  pale  and  trem- 
bling, and  urgently  prayed  the  duke  to  let  him  go 
back  and  meddle  no  more  in  the  affair;  but  the 
duke  would  not,  and  held  him  there  a  prisoner,  tell- 
ing him  his  life  was  safe  if  the  king  lived  while  the 
duke  desired  and  died  when  the  duke  desired — not 
otherwise.  And,  persuaded  by  the  physician,  they 
had  allowed  Mme.  de  Mauban  to  visit  the  king  and 
give  him  such  attendance  as  his  state  needed,  and 
as  only  a  woman  can  give.  Yet  his  life  hung  in  the 
balance;  and  I  was  yet  strong  and  whole  and  free. 
Wherefore  great  gloom  reigned  at  Zenda;  and  save 
when  they  quarreled,  to  which  they  were  very 
prone,  they  hardly  spoke.  But  the  deeper  the  de- 
pression of  the  rest,  young  Rupert  went  about 
Satan's  work  with  a  smile  in  his  eye  and  a  song  on 


A  DESPERATE  PLAN.  **1 

his  lip;  and  laughed  "  fit  to  burst "  (said  Johann) 
because  the  duke  always  set  Detchard  to  guard  the 
king  when  Mme.  de  Mauban  was  in  the  cell — which 
precaution  was,  indeed,  not  unwise  in  my  careful 
brother.  Thus  Johann  told  his  tale  and  seized  his 
crowns.  Yet  he  besought  us  to  allow  him  to  stay 
with  us  in  Tarlenheim,  and  not  venture  his  head 
again  in  the  lion's  den;  but  we  had  need  of  him 
there,  and  although  I  refused  to  constrain  him,  I 
prevailed  on  him  by  increased  rewards  to  go  back 
and  to  carry  tidings  to  Mme.  de  Mauban  that  I  was 
working  for  her,  and  that,  if  she  could,  she  should 
speak  one  word  of  comfort  to  the  king.  For  while 
suspense  is  bad  for  the  sick,  yet  despair  is  worse 
still,  and  it  might  be  that  the  king  lay  dying  of 
mere  hopelessness,  for  I  could  learn  of  no  definite 
disease  that  afflicted  him. 

"  And  how  do  they  guard  the  king  now?  "  I 
asked,  remembering  that  two  of  the  Six  were  dead, 
and  Max  Holf  also. 

"  Detchard  and  Bersonin  watch  by  night — Ru- 
pert Hentzau  and  Gautet  by  day,  sir,"  he  answered. 

"  Only  two  at  a  time?  " 


Sl8  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/t. 

"  Aye,  sir;  but  the  others  rest  in  a  room  just 
above,  and  are  within  sound  of  a  cry  or  a  whistle." 

"  A  room  just  above?  I  didn't  know  that.  Is 
there  any  communication  between  it  and  the  room 
where  they  watch?  " 

'*  No,  sir.  You  must  go  down  a  few  stairs  and 
through  the  door  by  the  drawbridge,  and  so  to 
where  the  king  is  lodged." 

"  And  that  door  is  locked?  " 

"  Only  the  four  lords  have  keys,  sir." 

I  drew  near  to  him. 

"  And  have  they  keys  of  the  grating?  "  I  asked 
in  a  low  whisper. 

"  I  think,  sir,  only  Detchard  and  Rupert." 

"  Where  does  the  duke  lodge?  " 

"  In  the  chateau,  on  the  first  floor.  His  apart- 
ments are  on  the  right  as  you  go  toward  the  draw- 
bridge." 

"  And  Mme.  de  Mauban?  " 

"  Just  opposite,  on  the  left.  But  her  door  is 
locked  after  she  has  entered." 

"  To  keep  her  in?  " 

"  Doubtless,  sir." 


A  DESPERATE  PLAN.  219 

"  Perhaps  for  another  reason?  " 

"  It  is  possible." 

"  And  the  duke,  I  suppose,  has  the  key?  " 
'  Yes.     And  the  drawbridge  is  drawn  back  at 
night,  and  of  that  too  the  duke  holds  the  key,  so 
that  it  cannot  be  run  across  the  moat  without  ap- 
plication to  him." 

"  And  where  do  you  sleep?  " 

"  In  the  entrance  hall  of  the  chateau,  with  five 
servants." 

"Armed?" 

'  They  have  pikes,  sir,  but  no  firearms.  The 
duke  will  not  trust  them  with  firearms." 

Then  at  last  I  took  the  matter  boldly  in  my 
hands.  I  had  failed  once  at  Jacob's  ladder;  I  should 
fail  again  there.  I  must  make  the  attack  from  the 
other  side. 

"  I  have  promised  you  twenty  thousand  crowns," 
said  I.  "  You  shall  have  fifty  thousand  if  you  will 
do  what  I  ask  of  you  to-morrow  night.  But,  first, 
do  those  servants  know  who  your  prisoner  is?  " 

"  No,  sir.  They  believe  him  to  be  some  private 
enemy  of  the  duke's." 


220  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

"And  they  would  not  doubt  that  I  am  the 
king?  " 

"  How  should  they?  "  he  asked. 

"  Look  to  this,  then.  To-morrow,  at  two  in  the 
morning  exactly,  fling  open  the  front  door  of  the 
chateau.  Don't  fail  by  an  instant." 

"  Shall  you  be  there,  sir?  " 

"  Ask  no  questions.  Do  what  I  tell  you.  Say 
the  hall  is  close,  or  what  you  will.  That  is  all  I  ask 
of  you." 

"  And  may  I  escape  by  the  open  door,  sir,  when 
I  have  opened  it?  " 

"  Yes,  as  quick  as  your  legs  will  carry  you.  One 
thing  more.  Carry  this  note  to  madame, — oh,  it's 
in  French,  you  can't  read  it, — and  charge  her,  for 
the  sake  of  all  our  lives,  not  to  fail  in  what  it 
orders." 

The  man  was  trembling,  but  I  had  to  trust  to 
what  he  had  of  courage  and  to  what  he  had  of  hon- 
esty. I  dared  not  wait,  for  I  feared  that  the  king 
would  die. 

When  the  fellow  was  gone  I  called  Sapt  and  Fritz 


A  DESPERATE  PLAN.  221 

to  me,  and  unfolded  the  plan  that  I  had  formed. 
Sapt  shook  his  head  over  it. 

"  Why  can't  you  wait?  "  he  asked. 

'  The  king  may  die." 

"  Michael  will  be  forced  to  act  before  that." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  the  king  may  live." 

"Well,  and  if  he  does?" 

"  For  a  fortnight?  "  I  asked  simply. 

And  Sapt  bit  his  mustache. 

Suddenly  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  laid  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder. 

"  Let  us  go  and  make  the  attempt,"  said  he. 

"  I  mean  you  to  go — don't  be  afraid,"  said  I. 

"  Aye,  but  do  you  stay  here  and  take  care  of  the 
princess!  " 

A  gleam  came  into  old  Sapt's  eye. 

"  We  should  have  Michael  one  way  or  the  other 
then,"  he  chuckled;  "whereas  if  you  go  and  are 
killed  with  the  king  what  will  become  of  those  of 
us  who  are  left?  " 

"  They  will  serve  Queen  Flavia,"  said  I,  "  and  I 
would  to  God  I  could  be  one  of  them." 


222  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEN  DA. 

A  pause  followed.  Old  Sapt  broke  it  by  saying 
sadly,  yet  with  unmeant  drollery  that  set  Fritz  and 
me  laughing: 

"  Why  didn't  old  Rudolf  the  Third  marry  your 
— great-grandmother,  was  it?  " 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  it  is  the  king  we  are  think- 
ing about." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Fritz. 

"  Moreover,"  I  went  on,  "  I  have  been  an  im- 
postor'for  the  profit  of  another,  but  I  will  not  be 
one  for  my  own ;  and  if  the  king  is  not  alive  and  on 
his  throne  before  the  day  of  betrothal  comes  I  will 
tell  the  truth,  come  what  may." 

"  You  shall  go,  lad,"  said  Sapt. 

Here  is  the  plan  I  had  made:  A  strong  party,  un- 
der Sapt's  command,  was  to  steal  up  to  the  door  of 
the  chateau.  If  discovered  prematurely  they  were 
to  kill  anyone  who  found  them — with  their  swords, 
for  I  wanted  no  noise  of  firing.  If  all  went  well 
they  would  be  at  the  door  when  Johann  opened  it. 
They  were  to  rush  in  and  secure  the  servants  if  their 
mere  presence  and  the  use  of  the  king's  name  were 
not  enough.  At  the  same  moment — and  on  this 


A  DESPERATE  PLAN.  223 

hinged  the  plan — a  woman's  cry  was  to  ring  out 
loud  and  shrill  from  Antoinette  de  Mauban's  cham- 
ber. Again  and  again  she  \vas  to  cry:  "  Help,  help! 
Michael,  help!"  and  then  to  utter  the  name  of 
young  Rupert  Hentzau.  Then,  as  we  hoped, 
Michael,  in  fury,  would  rush  out  of  his  apartments 
opposite,  and  fall  alive  into  the  hands  of  Sapt.  Still 
the  cries  would  go  on;  my  men  would  let  down  the 
drawbridge;  and  it  would  be  strange  if  Rupert, 
hearing  his  name  thus  taken  in  vain,  did  not  de- 
scend from  where  he  slept  and  seek  to  cross.  De 
Gautet  might  or  might  not  come  with  him:  that 
must  be  left  to  chance. 

And  when  Rupert  set  his  foot  on  the  draw- 
bridge? There  was  my  part:  for  I  was  minded  for 
another  swim  in  the  moat ;  and,  lest  I  should  grow 
weary,  I  had  resolved  to  take  with  me  a  small 
wooden  ladder,  on  which  I  could  rest  my  arms  in 
the  water — and  my  feet  when  I  left  it.  I  would 
rear  it  against  the  wall  just  by  the  bridge;  and  when 
the  bridge  was  across  I  would  stealthily  creep  on 
to  it — and  then  if  Rupert  or  De  Gautet  crossed  in 
safety  it  would  be  my  misfortune,  not  my  fault. 


224  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND  A. 

They  dead,  two  men  only  would  remain;  and  for 
them  we  must  trust  to  the  confusion  we  had  created 
and  to  a  sudden  rush.  We  should  have  the  keys 
of  the  door  that  led  to  the  all-important  rooms. 
Perhaps  they  would  rush  out.  If  they  stood  by 
their  orders,  then  the  king's  life  hung  on  the  swift- 
ness with  which  we  could  force  the  outer  door;  and 
I  thanked  God  that  not  Rupert  Hentzau  watched, 
but  Detchard.  For  though  Detchard  was  a  cool 
man,  relentless,  and  no  coward,  he  had  neither  the 
dash  nor  the  recklessness  of  Rupert.  Moreover, 
he,  if  any  one  of  them,  really  loved  Black  Michael, 
and  it  might  be  that  he  would  leave  Bersonin  to 
guard  the  king  and  rush  across  the  bridge  to  take 
part  in  the  affray  on  the  other  side. 

So  I  planned — desperately.  And.  that  our 
enemy  might  be  the  better  lulled  to  security,  I  gave 
orders  that  our  residence  should  be  brilliantly 
lighted  from  top  to  bottom,  as  though  we  were 
engaged  in  revelry;  and  should  so  be  kept  all  night, 
with  music  playing  and  people  moving  to  and  fro. 
Strakencz  would  be  there,  and  he  was  to  conceal 
our  departure,  if  he  could,  from  Flavia.  And  if  we 


A  DESPERATE  PLAN.  225 

came  not  again  by  the  morning  he  was  to  march, 
openly  and  in  force,  to  the  castle,  and  demand  the 
person  of  the  king:  if  Black  Michael  were  not  there, 
as  I  did  not  think  he  would  be,  the  marshal  would 
take  Flavia  with  him,  as  swiftly  as  he  could,  to 
Strelsau,  and  there  proclaim  Black  Michael's 
treachery  and  the  probable  death  of  the  king,  and 
rally  all  that  there  was  honest  and  true  round  the 
banner  of  the  princess.  And,  to  say  truth,  this  was 
what  I  thought  most  likely  to  happen. 

For  I  had  great  doubts  whether  either  the  king 
or  Black  Michael  or  I  had  more  than  a  day  to  live. 
Well,  if  Black  Michael  died,  and  if  I,  the  play-actor, 
slew  Rupert  Hentzau  with  my  own  hand,  and  then 
died  myself,  it  might  be  that  Fate  would  deal  as 
lightly  with  Ruritania  as  could  be  hoped,  notwith- 
standing that  it  demanded  the  life  of  the  king — and 
to  her  dealing  thus  with  me  I  was  in  no  temper  to 
make  objection. 

It  was  late  when  we  rose  from  conference,  and  I 
betook  me  to  the  princess'  apartments.  She  was 
pensive  that  evening;  yet  when  I  left  her  she  flung 
her  arms  about  me  and  grew,  for  an  instant,  bash- 


226  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

fully  radiant  as  she  slipped  a  ring  on  my  finger.  I 
was  wearing  the  king's  ring;  but  I  had  also  on  my 
little  finger  a  plain  band  of  gold  engraved  with  the 
motto  of  our  family,  "  Nil  Qua  Fed."  This  I  took 
off  and  put  on  her  finger  and  signed  her  to  let  me 
go.  And  she,  understanding,  stood  away  and 
watched  me  with  dimmed  eyes. 

"  Wear  that  ring,  even  though  you  wear  another 
when  you  are  queen,"  I  said. 

"  Whatever  else  I  wear,  this  I  will  wear  till  I  die, 
and  after,"  said  she  as  she  kissed  the  ring. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS. 

THE  night  came  fine  and  clear.  I  had  prayed 
for  dirty  weather,  such  as  had  favored  my  previous 
voyage  in  the  moat,  but  Fortune  was  this  time 
against  me.  Still  I  reckoned  that  by  keeping  close 
under  the  wall  and  in  the  shadow  I  could  escape 
detection  from  the  windows  of  the  chateau  that 
looked  out  on  the  scene  of  my  efforts.  If  they 
searched  the  moat,  indeed  my  scheme  must  fail; 
but  I  did  not  think  they  would.  They  had  made 
Jacob's  ladder  secure  against  attack.  Johann  had 
himself  helped  to  fix  it  closely  to  the  masonry  on 
the  under  side,  so  that  it  could  not  now  be  moved 
from  below  any  more  than  from  above.  An 
assault  .Vith  explosives  or  a  long  battering  with 
picks  alone  could  displace  it,  and  the  noise  involved 
in  either  of  these  operations  put  them  out  of  the 
question.  What  harm,  then,  could  a  man  do  in 


227 


228  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/1. 

the  moat?  I  trusted  that  Black  Michael,  putting 
this  query  to  himself,  would  answer  confidently, 
"  None  " ;  while  even  if  Johann  meant  treachery  he 
did  not  know  my  scheme,  and  would  doubtless  ex- 
pect to  see  me,  at  the  head  of  my  friends,  before 
the  front  entrance  to  the  chateau.  There,  I  said  to 
Sapt,  was  the  real  danger. 

"  And  there,"  I  added,  "  you  shall  be.  Doesn't 
that  content  you?  " 

But  it  did  not.  Dearly  would  he  have  liked  to 
come  with  me  had  I  not  utterly  refused  to  take 
him.  One  man  might  escape  notice;  to  double  the 
party  more  than  doubled  the  risk:  and  when  he 
ventured  to  hint  once  again  that  my  life  was  too 
valuable,  I,  knowing  the  secret  thought  he  clung 
to,  sternly  bade  him  be  silent,  assuring  him  that 
unless  the  king  lived  through  the  night  I  would 
not  live  through  it  either. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Sapt's  command  left  the 
chateau  of  Tarlenheim  and  struck  off  to  the  right, 
riding  by  unfrequented  roads,  and  avoiding  the 
town  of  Zenda.  If  all  went  well  they  would  be  in 
front  of  Zenda  by  about  a  quarter  to  two.  Leav- 


YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS.        229 

ing  their  horses  half  a  mile  off,  they  were  to  steal 
up  to  the  entrance  and  hold  themselves  in  readi- 
ness for  the  opening  of  the  door.  If  the  door  were 
not  opened  by  two  they  were  to  send  Fritz  von 
Tarlenheim  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  castle. 
I  would  meet  him  there  if  I  were  alive,  and  we 
would  consult  whether  to  storm  the  castle  or  not. 
If  I  were  not  there  they  were  to  return  with  all 
speed  to  Tarlenheim,  rouse  the  marshal,  and  march 
in  force  on  Zenda.  For  if  not  there  I  should  be 
dead;  and  I  knew  that  the  king  would  not  be  alive 
five  minutes  after  I  had  ceased  to  breathe. 

I  must  now  leave  Sapt  and  his  friends,  and  re- 
late how  I  myself  proceeded  on  this  eventful 
night.  J  went  out  on  the  good  horse  which  had 
carried  me,  on  the  night  of  the  coronation,  back 
from  the  shooting  lodge  to  Strelsau.  I  carried  a 
revolver  in  the  saddle  and  my  sword.  I  was  cov- 
ered with  a  large  cloak,  and  under  this  I  wore  a 
warm,  tight-fitting  woolen  jersey,  a  pair  of  knicker- 
bockers, thick  stockings,  and  light  canvas  shoes. 
I  had  rubbed  myself  thoroughly  with  oil,  and  I 
carried  a  large  flask  of  whisky.  The  night  was 


230  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

warm,  but  I  might  probably  be  immersed  a  long 
while,  and  it  was  necessary  to  take  every  precaution 
against  cold:  for  cold  not  only  saps  a  man's  courage 
if  he  has  to  die,  but  impairs  his  energy  if  others 
have  to  die,  and,  finally,  gives  him  rheumatics,  if  it 
be  God's  will  that  he  lives.  Also  I  tied  round  my 
body  a  length  of  thin  but  stout  cord,  and  I  did  not 
forget  my  ladder.  I,  starting  after  Sapt,  took  a 
shorter  route,  skirting  the  town  to  the  left,  and 
found  myself  in  the  outskirts  of  the  forest  at  about 
half-past  twelve.  I  tied  my  horse  up  in  a  thick 
clump  of  trees,  leaving  the  revolver  in  its  pocket  in 
the  saddle, — it  would  be  no  use  to  me, — and,  ladder 
in  hand,  made  my  way  to  the  edge  of  the  moat. 
Here  I  unwound  my  rope  from  about  my  waist, 
bound  it  securely  round  the  trunk  of  a  tree  on  the 
bank,  and  let  myself  down.  The  castle  clock 
struck  a  quarter  to  one  as  I  felt  the  water  under  me 
and  began  to  swim  round  the  keep,  pushing  the 
ladder  before  me,  and  hugging  the  castle  wall. 
Thus  voyaging,  I  came  to  my  old  friend  "  Jacob's 
ladder,"  and  felt  the  ledge  of  masonry  under  me. 
I  crouched  down  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  pipe, 


YOUNG  RUPERTS  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS.       231 

— I  tried  to  stir  it,  but  it  was  quite  immovable, — 
and  waited.  I  remember  that  my  predominant 
feeling  was  neither  anxiety  for  the  king  nor  long- 
ing for  Flavia,  but  an  intense  desire  to  smoke;  and 
this  craving,  of  course,  I  could  not  gratify. 

The  drawbridge  was  still  in  its  place.  I  saw  its 
airy,  light  framework  above  me,  some  ten  yards  to 
my  right,  as  I  crouched  with  my  back  against  the 
wall  of  the  king's  cell.  I  made  out  a  window  two 
yards  my  side  of  it  and  nearly  on  the  same  level. 
That,  if  Johann  spoke  true,  must  belong  to  the 
duke's  apartments;  and  on  the  other  side,  in  about 
the  same  relative  position,  must  be  Mme.  de  Mau- 
ban's  window.  Women  are  careless,  forgetful 
creatures.  I  prayed  that  she  might  not  forget  that 
she  was  to  be  the  victim  of  a  brutal  attempt  at  two 
o'clock  precisely.  I  was  rather  amused  at  the  part 
I  had  assigned  to  my  young  friend  Rupert  Hent- 
zau;  but  I  owed  him  a  stroke — for,  even  as  I  sat, 
my  shoulder  ached  where  he  had,  with  an  audacity 
that  seemed  half  to  hide  his  treachery,  struck  at 
me,  in  sight  of  all  my  friends,  on  the  terrace  at 
Tarlenheim. 


232  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/1. 

Suddenly  the  duke's  window  grew  bright.  The 
shutters  were  not  closed,  and  the  interior  became 
partially  visible  to  me  as  I  cautiously  raised  myself 
till  I  stood  on  tiptoe.  Thus  placed,  my  range  of 
sight  embraced  a  yard  or  more  inside  the  window, 
while  the  radius  of  light  did  not  reach  me.  The 
window  was  flung  open  and  someone  looked  out. 
I  marked  Antoinette  de  Mauban's  graceful  figure, 
and  though  her  face  was  in  shadow,  the  fine  outline 
of  her  head  was  revealed  against  the  light  behind. 
I  longed  to  cry  softly  "  Remember!  "  but  I  dared 
not — and  happily,  for  a  moment  later  a  man  came 
up  and  stood  by  her.  He  tried  to  put  his  arm 
round  her  waist,  but  with  a  swift  motion  she  sprang 
away  and  leaned  against  the  shutter,  her  profile 
toward  me.  I  made  out  who  the  newcomer  was: 
it  was  young  Rupert.  A  low  laugh  from  him  made 
me  sure,  as  he  leaned  forward,  stretching  out  his 
hand  toward  her. 

"Gently,  gently!"  I  murmured.  "You're  too 
soon,  my  boy!  " 

His  head  was  close  to  hers.     I  suppose  he  whis- 


YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS.        233 

pered  to  her,  for  I  saw  her  point  to  the  moat,  and  I 
heard  her  say  in  slow  and  distinct  tones: 

"  I  had  rather  throw  myself  out  of  this  window!  " 

He  came  close  up  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 

"  It  looks  cold,"  said  he.  "  Come,  Antoinette, 
are  you  serious?  " 

She  made  no  answer,  so  far  as  I  heard;  and  he, 
smiting  his  hand  petulantly  on  the  window  sill, 
went  on  in  the  voice  of  some  spoilt  child: 

"Hang  Black  Michael!  Isn't  the  princess 
enough  for  him?  Is  he  to  have  everything? 
What  the  devil  do  you  see  in  Black  Michael?  " 

"  If  I  told  him  what  you  say -"  she  began. 

"Well,  tell  him,"  said  Rupert  carelessly;  and, 
catching  her  off  her  guard,  he  sprang  forward  and 
kissed  her,  laughing,  and  crying,  "  There's  some- 
thing to  tell  him!" 

If  I  had  kept  my  revolver  with  me  I  should  have 
been  very  sorely  tempted.  Being  spared  the  temp- 
tation, I  merely  added  this  new  score  to  his  account. 

"Though,  faith,"  said  Rupert,  "it's  little  he 
cares.  He's  mad  about  the  princess,  you  know. 


234  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

He  talks  of  nothing  but  cutting  the  play-actor's 
throat." 

Didn't  he,  indeed? 

"  And  if  I  do  it  for  him  what  do  you  think  he's 
promised  me?" 

The  unhappy  woman  raised  her  hands  above  her 
head,  in  prayer  or  in  despair. 

"  But  I  detest  waiting,"  said  Rupert;  and  I  saw 
that  he  was  about  to  lay  his  hand  on  her  again 
when  there  was  a  noise  of  a  door  in  the  room  open- 
ing, and  a  harsh  voice  cried: 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  sir?  " 

Rupert  turned  his  back  to  the  window,  bowed 
low,  and  said  in  his  loud,  merry  tones: 

"  Apologizing  for  your  absence,  sir.  Could  I 
leave  the  lady  alone?  " 

The  newcomer  must  be  Black  Michael.  I  saw 
him  directly,  as  he  advanced  toward  the  window. 
He  caught  young  Rupert  by  the  arm. 

"  The  moat  would  hold  more  than  the  king!  " 
said  he,  with  a  significant  gesture. 

"  Does  your  Highness  threaten  me?  "  asked  Ru- 
pert. 


YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS.       235 

"  A  threat  is  more  warning  than  most  men  get 
from  me." 

"  Yet,"  observed  Rupert,  "  Rudolf  Rassendyll 
has  been  much  threatened,  and  yet  lives." 

"  Am  I  in  fault  because  my  servants  bungle?  " 
asked  Michael  scornfully. 

"  Your  Highness  has  run  no  risk  of  bungling!  " 
sneered  Rupert. 

It  was  telling  the  duke  that  he  shirked  danger 
as  plain  as  ever  I  have  heard  a  man  told.  Black 
Michael  had  self-control.  I  dare  say  he  scowled, — 
it  was  a  great  regret  to  me  that  I  could  not  see 
their  faces  better, — but  his  voice  was  even  and  calm 
as  he  answered: 

"  Enough,  enough !  We  mustn't  quarrel,  Ru- 
pert. Are  Detchard  and  Bersonin  at  their 
posts?  " 

"  They  are,  sir." 

"  I  need  you  no  more." 

"  Nay,  I'm  not  oppressed  with  fatigue,"  said 
Rupert. 

"  Pray,  sir,  leave  us,"  said  Michael  more  im- 
patiently. "  In  ten  minutes  the  drawbridge  will 


236  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

be  drawn  back,  and  I  presume  you  have  no  wish  to 
swim  to  your  bed." 

Rupert's  figure  disappeared.  I  heard  the  door 
open  and  shut  again.  Michael  and  Antoinette  de 
Mauban  were  left  together.  To  my  chagrin,  the 
duke  laid  his  hand  on  the  window  and  closed  it. 
He  stood  talking  to  Antoinette  for  a  moment  or 
two.  She  shook  her  head,  and  he  turned  impa- 
tiently away.  She  left  the  window.  The  door 
sounded  again,  and  Black  Michael  closed  the 
shutters. 

"  De  Gautet,  De  Gautet,  man!"  sounded  from 
the  drawbridge.  "  Unless  you  want  a  bath  before 
your  bed,  come  along!  " 

It  was  Rupert's  voice,  coming  from  the  end  of 
the  drawbridge.  A  moment  later  he  and  De  Gau- 
tet stepped  out  on  the  bridge.  Rupert's  arm  was 
through  De  Gautet's,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
bridge  he  detained  his  companion  and  leaned  over. 
I  dropped  beside  the  shelter  of  "  Jacob's  ladder." 

Then  Master  Rupert  had  a  little  sport.  He  took 
from  De  Gautet  a  bottle  which  he  carried,  and  put 
it  to  his  lips. 


YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS.       237 

"  Hardly  a  drop!  "  he  cried  discontentedly,  and 
flung  it  in  the  moat. 

It  fell,  as  I  judged  from  the  sound  and  the  circles 
on  the  water,  within  a  yard  of  the  pipe.  And  Ru- 
pert, taking  out  his  revolver,  began  to  shoot  at  it. 
The  first  two  shots  missed  the  bottle,  but  hit  the 
pipe.  The  third  shattered  the  bottle.  I  hoped 
that  the  young  ruffian  would  be  content;  but  he 
emptied  the  other  barrels  at  the  pipe,  and  one, 
skimming  over  the  pipe,  whistled  through  my  hair 
as  I  crouched  on  the  other  side. 

"  Ware  bridge !  "  a  voice  cried,  to  my  relief. 

Rupert  and  De  Gautet  cried,  "  A  moment!  "  and 
ran  across.  The  bridge  was  drawn  back,  and  all 
became  still.  The  clock  struck  a  quarter  past  one. 
I  rose  and  stretched  myself  and  yawned. 

I  think  some  ten  minutes  had  passed  when  I 
heard  a  slight  noise  to  my  right.  I  peered  over  the 
pipe,  and  saw  a  dark  figure  standing  in  the  gateway 
that  led  to  the  bridge.  It  was  a  man.  By  the 
careless,  graceful  poise  I  guessed  it  to  be  Rupert 
again.  He  held  a  sword  in  his  hand,  and  he  stood 
motionless  for  a  minute  or  two.  Wild  thoughts 


238  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

ran  through  me.  On  what  mischief  was  the  young 
fiend  bent  now?  Then  he  laughed  low  to  himself; 
then  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  took  a  step  in 
my  direction,  and  to  my  surprise  began  to  climb 
down  the  wall.  In  an  instant  I  saw  that  there  must 
be  steps  in  the  wall;  it  was  plain.  They  were  cut 
into  or  affixed  to  the  wall  at  intervals  of  about 
eighteen  inches.  Rupert  set  his  foot  on  the  lower 
one.  Then  he  placed  his  sword  between  his  teeth, 
turned  round,  and  noiselessly  let  himself  down  into 
the  water.  Had  it  been  a  matter  of  my  life  only  I 
would  have  swam  to  meet  him.  Dearly  would  I 
have  loved  to  fight  it  out  with  him  then  and  there 
— with  steel,  on  a  fine  night  and  none  to  come  be- 
tween us.  But  there  was  the  king!  I  restrained 
myself,  but  I  could  not  bridle  my  swift  breath- 
ing, and  I  watched  him  with  the  intensest 
eagerness. 

He  swam  leisurely  and  quietly  across.  There 
were  more  footsteps  up  on  the  other  side,  and  he 
climbed  them.  When  he  set  foot  in  the  gateway, 
standing  on  the  drawn-back  bridge,  he  felt  in  his 
pocket  and  took  something  out.  I  heard  him  un- 


YOUNG  RUPERT'S  MIDNIGHT  DIVERSIONS.       239 

lock  the  door.  I  could  hear  no  noise  of  its  closing 
behind  him.  He  vanished  from  my  sight. 

Abandoning  my  ladder, — I  saw  I  did  not  need  it 
now, — I  swam  to  the  side  of  the  bridge,  and 
climbed  halfway  up  the  steps.  There  I  hung,  with 
my  sword  in  my  hand,  listening  eagerly.  The 
duke's  room  was  shuttered  and  dark.  There  was  a 
light  in  the  window  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
bridge.  Not  a  sound  broke  the  silence,  till  half- 
past  one  chimed  from  the  great  clock  in  the  tower 
of  the  chateau. 

There  were  other  plots  than  mine  afoot  in  the 
castle  that  night. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE     FORCING    OF    THE    TRAP. 

THE  position  wherein  I  stood  does  not  appear 
very  favorable  to  thought;  yet  for  the  next  moment 
or  two  I  thought  profoundly.  I  had,  I  told  myself, 
scored  one  point.  Be  Rupert  Hentzau's  errand 
what  it  might,  and  the  villainy  he  was  engaged  on 
what  it  would,  I  had  scored  one  point.  He  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  moat  from  the  king,  and  it 
would  be  by  no  fault  of  mine  if  ever  he  set  foot  on 
the  same  side  again.  I  had  three  left  to  deal  with : 
two  on  guard  and  De  Gautet  in  his  bed.  Ah,  if  I 
had  the  keys!  I  would  have  risked  everything  and 
attacked  Detchard  and  Bersonin  before  their 
friends  could  join  them.  But  I  was  powerless.  I 
must  wait  till  the  coming  of  my  friends  enticed 
someone  to  cross  the  bridge — someone  with  the 
keys.  And  I  waited,  as  it  seemed,  for  half  an  hour, 


THE  FORCING   OF  THE   TRAP.  241 

really  for  about  five  minutes,  before  the  next  act 
in  the  rapid  drama  began. 

All  was  still  on  the  other  side.  The  duke's  room 
remained  inscrutable  behind  its  shutters.  The 
light  burned  steadily  in  Mme.de  Mauban's  window. 
Then  I  heard  the  faintest,  faintest  sound;  it  came 
from  behind  the  door  which  led  to  the  drawbridge 
on  the  other  side  of  the  moat.  It  but  just  reached 
my  ear,  yet  I  could  not  be  mistaken  as  to  what  it 
was.  It  was  made  by  a  key  being  turned  very 
carefully  and  slowly.  Who  was  turning  it?  And 
of  what  room  was  it  the  key?  There  leaped  before 
my  eyes  the  picture  of  young  Rupert,  with  the  key 
in  one  hand,  his  sword  in  the  other,  and  an  evil 
smile  on  his  face.  But  I  did  not  know  what  door 
it  was,  nor  in  which  of  his  favorite  pursuits  young 
Rupert  was  spending  the  hours  of  that  night. 

I  was  soon  to  be  enlightened,  for  the  next  mo- 
ment— before  my  friends  could  be  near  the  chateau 
door — before  Johann,  the  keeper,  would  have 
thought  to  nerve  himself  for  his  task — there  was  a 
sudden  crash  from  the  room  with  the  lighted  win- 
dow. It  sounded  as  though  someone  had  flung 


242  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND /I. 

down  a  lamp,  and  the  window  went  dark  and  black. 
At  the  same  instant  a  cry  rang  out,  shrill  in  the 
night:  "  Help,  help!  Michael,  help!  "  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  shriek  of  utter  terror. 

I  was  tingling  in  every  nerve.  I  stood  on  the 
topmost  step,  clinging  to  the  threshold  of  the  gate 
with  my  right  hand  and  holding  my  sword  in  my 
left.  Suddenly  I  perceived  that  the  gateway  was 
broader  than  the  bridge;  there  was  a  dark  corner 
on  the  opposite  side  where  a  man  could  stand.  I 
darted  across  and  stood  there.  Thus  placed,  I 
commanded  the  path,  and  no  man  could  pass  be- 
tween the  chateau  and  the  old  castle  till  he  had 
tried  conclusions  with  me. 

There  was  another  shriek.  Then  a  door  was 
flung  open  and  clanged  against  the  wall,  and  I 
heard  the  handle  of  a  door  savagely  twisted. 

"  Open  the  door!  In  God's  name,  what's  the 
matter?  "  cried  a  voice — the  voice  of  Black  Michael 
himself. 

He  was  answered  by  the  very  words  I  had  writ- 
ten in  my  letter: 

"Help,  Michael— Hentzau!" 


THE  FORCING   OF  THE  TRAP.  243 

A  fierce  oath  rang  out  from  the  duke,  and  with 
a  loud  thud  he  threw  himself  against  the  door.  At 
the  same  moment  I  heard  a  window  above  my  head 
open,  and  a  voice  cried:  "What's  the  matter?" 
and  I  heard  a  man's  hasty  footsteps.  I  grasped 
my  sword.  If  De  Gautet  came  my  way  the  Six 
would  be  less  by  one  more. 

Then  I  heard  the  clash  of  crossed  swords  and  a 
tramp  of  feet,  and — I  cannot  tell  the  thing  so 
quickly  as  it  happened,  for  all  seemed  to  come  at 
once.  There  was  an  angry  cry  from  madame's 
room,  the  cry  of  a  wounded  man;  the  window  was 
flung  open;  young  Rupert  stood  there  sword  in 
hand.  He  turned  his  back,  and  I  saw  his  body  go 
forward  to  the  lunge. 

"  Ah,  Johann,  there's  one  for  you !  Come  on, 
Michael!" 

Johann  was  there,  then — come  to  the  rescue  of 
the  duke!  How  would  he  open  the  door  for  me? 
For  I  feared  that  Rupert  had  slain  him. 

"  Help!  "  cried  the  duke's  voice,  faint  and  husky. 

I  heard  a  stir  on  the  stairs  above  me;  and  I  heard 
a  stir  down  to  my  right,  in  the  direction  of  the 


244  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

king's  cell.  But  before  anything  happened  on  my 
side  of  the  moat  I  saw  five  or  six  men  round  young 
Rupert  in  the  embrasure  of  madame's  window. 
Three  or  four  times  he  lunged  with  incomparable 
dash  and  dexterity.  For  an  instant  they  fell  back, 
leaving  a  ring  round  him.  He  leaped  on  the  para- 
pet of  the  window,  laughing  as  he  leaped,  and  wav- 
ing his  sword  in  his  hand.  He  was  drunk  with 
blood,  and  he  laughed  again  wildly  as  he  flung  him- 
self headlong  into  the  moat. 

What  became  of  him  then?  I  did  not  see:  for 
as  he  leaped,  De  Gautet's  lean  face  looked  out 
through  the  door  by  me,  and  without  a  second's 
hesitation  I  struck  at  him  with  all  the  strength  God 
had  given  me,  and  he  fell  dead  in  the  doorway  with- 
out a  word  or  a  groan.  I  dropped  on  my  knees  by 
him.  Where  were  the  keys?  I  found  myself  mut- 
tering: "  The  keys,  man,  the  keys!  "  as  though  he 
had  been  yet  alive  and  could  listen;  and  when  I 
could  not  find  them  I — God  forgive  me! — I  believe 
I  struck  a  dead  man's  face. 

At  last  I  had  them.  There  were  but  three. 
Seizing  the  largest,  I  felt  the  lock  of  the  door  that 


THE  FORCING  OF   THE   TRAP.  245 

led  to  the  cell.  I  fitted  in  the  key.  It  was  right! 
The  lock  turned.  I  drew  the  door  close  behind  me 
and  locked  it  as  noiselessly  as  I  could,  putting  the 
key  in  my  pocket. 

I  found  myself  at  the  top  of  a  flight  of  steep 
stone  stairs.  An  oil  lamp  burned  dimly  in  the 
bracket.  I  took  it  down  and  held  it  in  my  hand; 
and  I  stood  and  listened. 

"  What  in  the  devil  can  it  be?  "  I  heard  a  voice 
say. 

It  came  from  behind  a  door  that  faced  me  at  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs. 

And  another  answered: 

"  Shall  we  kill  him?  " 

I  strained  to  hear  the  answer,  and  could  have 
sobbed  with  relief  when  Detchard's  voice  came, 
grating  and  cold: 

"  Wait  a  bit.  There'll  be  trouble  if  we  strike 
too  soon." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Then  I  heard 
the  bolt  of  the  door  cautiously  drawn  back.  In- 
stantly I  put  out  the  light  I  held,  replacing  the 
lamp  in  the  bracket. 


246  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND4. 

"  It's  dark — the  lamp's  out.  Have  you  a  light?  " 
said  the  other  voice — Bersonin's. 

No  doubt  they  had  a  light,  but  they  should  not 
use  it.  It  was  come  to  the  crisis  now,  and  I  rushed 
down  the  steps  and  flung  myself  against  the  .door. 
Bersonin  had  unbolted  it  and  it  gave  way  before 
me.  The  Belgian  stood  there,  sword  in  hand,  and 
Detchard  was  sitting  on  a  couch  at  the  side  of  the 
room.  In  astonishment  at  seeing  me,  Bersonin 
recoiled;  Detchard  jumped  to  his  sword.  I  rushed 
madly  at  the  Belgian:  he  gave  way  before  me,  and 
I  drove  him  up  against  the  wall.  He  was  no 
swordsman,  though  he  fought  bravely,  and  in  a 
moment  he  lay  on  the  floor  before  me.  I  turned — 
Detchard  was  not  there.  Faithful  to  his  orders, 
he  had  not  risked  a  fight  with  me,  but  had  rushed 
straight  to  the  door  of  the  king's  room,  opened  it, 
and  slammed  it  behind  him.  Even  now  he  was  at 
his  work  inside. 

And  surely  he  would  have  killed  the  king,  and 
perhaps  me  also,  had  it  not  been  for  one  devoted 
man  who  gave  his  life  for  the  king.  For  when  I 
forced  the  door  the  sight  I  saw  was  this:  The 


THE  FORCING   OF  THE   TRAP.  247 

king  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room:  broken  by 
his  sickness,  he  could  do  nothing;  his  fettered 
hands  moved  uselessly  up  and  down,  and  he  was 
laughing  horribly  in  half-mad  delirium.  Detchard 
and  the  doctor  were  together  in  the  middle  of  the 
room;  and  the  doctor  had  flung  himself  on  the 
murderer,  pinning  his  hands  to  his  sides  for  an  in- 
stant. Then  Detchard  wrenched  himself  free  from 
the  feeble  grip,  and  as  I  entered  drove  his  sword 
through  the  hapless  man. 

Then  he  turned  on  me,  crying: 

"At  last!" 

We  were  sword  to  sword.  By  blessed  chance 
neither  he  nor  Bersonin  had  been  wearing  their 
revolvers.  I  found  them  afterward,  ready  loaded, 
on  the  mantelpiece  of  the  outer  room;  it  was  hard 
by  the  door,  ready  to  their  hands,  but  my  sudden 
rush  in  had  cut  off  access  to  them.  Yes,  we  were 
man  to  man:  and  we  began  to  fight,  silently, 
sternly,  and  hard.  Yet  I  remember  little  of  it,  save 
that  the  man  was  my  match  with  the  sword — nay, 
and  more,  for  he  knew  more  tricks  than  I;  and  that 
he  forced  me  back  against  the  bars  that  guarded 


248  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

the  entrance  to  "  Jacob's  ladder."  And  I  saw  a 
smile  on  his  face,  and  he  wounded  me  in  the  left 
arm. 

No  glory  do  I  take  for  that  contest.  I  believe 
that  the  man  would  have  mastered  me  and  slain 
me,  and  then  done  his  butcher's  work,  for  he  was 
the  most  skillful  swordsman  I  have  ever  met;  but 
even  as  he  pressed  me  hard  the  half-mad,  wasted, 
wan  creature  in  the  corner  leaped  high  in  lunatic 
mirth,  shrieking: 

"It's  Cousin  Rudolf!  Cousin  Rudolf!  I'll 
help  you,  Cousin  Rudolf!  "  and  catching  up  a  chair 
in  his  hands  (he  could  but  just  lift  it  from  the 
ground  and  hold  it  uselessly  before  him),  he  came 
toward  us.  Hope  came  to  me. 

"Come  on!"  I  cried.  "Come  on!  Drive  it 
against  his  legs." 

Detchard  replied  with  a  savage  thrust.  He  all 
but  had  me. 

"Come  on!  Come  on,  man !"  I  cried.  "Come 
and  share  the  fun !  " 

And  the  king  laughed  gleefully,  and  came  on, 
pushing  his  chair  before  him. 


THE  FORCING   OF  THE   TRAP.  249 

With  an  oath  Detchard  skipped  back,  and  be- 
fore I  knew  what  he  was  doing  had  turned  his 
sword  against  the  king.  He  made  one  fierce  cut 
at  the  king,  and  the  king,  with  a  piteous  cry, 
dropped  where  he  stood.  The  stout  ruffian  turned 
to  face  me  again.  But  his  own  hand  had  prepared 
his  destruction;  for  in  turning  he  trod  in  the  pool 
of  blood  that  flowed  from  the  dead  physician.  He 
slipped;  he  fell.  Like  a  dart  I  was  upon  him.  I 
caught  him  by  the  throat,  and  before  he  could  re- 
cover himself  I  drove  my  blade  through  his  neck, 
and  with  a  stifled  curse  he  fell  across  the  body  of 
his  victim. 

Was  the  king  dead?  It  was  my  first  thought. 
I  rushed  to  where  he  lay.  Aye,  it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  dead,  for  he  had  a  great  gash  across  the  fore- 
head, and  he  lay  still  in  a  huddled  mass  on  the  floor. 
I  dropped  on  my  knees  beside  him,  and  leaned  my 
ear  down  to  hear  if  he  breathed.  But  before  I 
could,  there  was  a  loud  rattle  from  the  outside.  I 
knew  the  sound :  the  drawbridge  was  being  pushed 
out.  A  moment  later  it  rang  home  against  the 
wall  on  my  side  of  the  moat.  I  should  be  caught 


250  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/t. 

in  a  trap  and  the  king  with  me,  if  he  yet  lived.  He 
must  take  his  chance,  to  live  or  to  die.  I  took  my 
sword,  and  passed  into  the  outer  room.  Who 
were  pushing  the  drawbridge  out — my  men?  If 
so,  all  was  well.  My  eye  fell  on  the  revolvers,  and 
I  seized  one;  and  paused  to  listen  in  the  doorway 
of  the  outer  room.  To  listen,  say  I?  Yes,  and  to 
get  my  breath:  and  I  tore  my  shirt  and  twisted  a 
strip  of  it  round  my  bleeding  arm;  and  stood  listen- 
ing again.  I  would  have  given  the  world  to  hear 
Sapt's  voice.  For  I  was  faint,  spent,  and  weary. 
And 'that  wildcat  Rupert  Hentzau  was  yet  at  large 
in  the  castle.  Yet,  because  I  could  better  defend 
the  narrow  door  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  than  the 
wider  entrance  to  the  room,  I  dragged  myself  up 
the  steps,  and  stood  behind  it,  listening. 

What  was  the  sound?  Again  a  strange  one  for 
the  place  and  the  time.  An  easy,  scornful,  merry 
laugh — the  laugh  of  young  Rupert  Hentzau!  I 
could  scarcely  believe  that  a  sane  man  would  laugh. 
Yet  the  laugh  told  me  that  my  men  had  not  come; 
for  they  must  have  shot  Rupert  ere  now  if  they  had 
come.  And  the  clock  struck  half-past  two!  My 


THE  FORCING   OF   THE   JRAP.  251 

God!  The  door  had  not  been  opened!  They  had 
gone  to  the  bank!  They  had  not  found  me! 
They  had  gone  by  now  back  to  Tarlenheim,  with 
the  news  of  the  king's  death — and  mine.  Well,  it 
would  be  true  before  they  got  there.  Was  not 
Rupert  laughing  in  triumph? 

For  a  moment  I  sank,  unnerved,  against  the 
door.  Then  I  started  up  alert  again,  for  Rupert 
cried  scornfully: 

"  Well,  the  bridge  is  there!  Come  over  it!  And 
in  God's  name,  let's  see  Black  Michael!  Keep 
back,  you  curs!  Michael,  come  and  fight  for  her!  " 

If  it  were  a  three-cornered  fight  I  might  yet  bear 
my  part.  I  turned  the  key  in  the  door  and  looked 
out. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FACE  TO  FACE  IN  THE  FOREST. 

FOR  a  moment  I  could  see  nothing,  for  the  glare 
of  lanterns  and  torches  caught  me  full  in  the  eyes 
from  the  other  side  of  the  bridge.  But  soon  the 
scene  grew  clear;  and  it  was  a  strange  scene.  The 
bridge  was  in  its  place.  At  the  far  end  of  it  stood 
a  group  of  the  duke's  servants;  two  or  three  car- 
ried the  lights  which  had  dazzled  me,  three  or  four 
held  pikes  in  rest.  They  were  huddled  together; 
their  weapons  protruded  before  them;  their  faces 
were  pale  and  agitated.  To  put  it  plainly,  they 
looked  in  as  arrant  a  fright  as  I  have  seen  men  look, 
and  they  gazed  apprehensively  at  a  man  who  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  bridge,  sword  in  hand.  Rupert 
Hentzau  was  in  his  trousers  and  shirt;  the  white 
linen  was  stained  with  blood ;  but  his  easy,  buoyant 
pose  told  me  that  he  was  himself  either  not  touched 
at  all  or  merely  scratched.  There  he  stood,  hold- 


FACE  TO  FACE  IN   THE  FOREST.  253 

ing  the  bridge  against  them,  and  daring  them  to 
come  on;  or,  rather,  bidding  them  and  Black 
Michael  to  him;  and  they,  having  no  firearms, 
cowered  before  the  desperate  man  and  dared  not 
attack  him.  They  whispered  to  one  another:  and 
in  the  backmost  rank  I  saw  my  friend  Johann,  lean- 
ing against  the  portal  of  the  door  and  stanching 
with  a  handkerchief  the  blood  which  flowed  from  a 
wound  in  his  cheek. 

By  marvelous  chance  I  was  master.  The  cravens 
would  oppose  me  no  more  than  they  dared  attack 
Rupert.  I  had  but  to  raise  my  revolver,  and  I 
sent  him  to  his  account  with  his  sins  on  his  head. 
He  did  not  so  much  as  know  that  I  was  there.  I 
did  nothing — why,  I  hardly  know  to  this  day.  I 
had  killed  one  man  stealthily  that  night,  and  an- 
other by  luck  rather  than  skill — perhaps  it  was 
that.  Again,  villain  as  the  man  was,  I  did  not  rel- 
ish being  one  of  a  crowd  against  him — perhaps  it 
was  that.  But  stronger  than  either  of  these  re- 
straining feelings  came  a  curiosity  and  a  fascination 
which  held  me  spellbound,  watching  for  the  out- 
come of  the  scene. 


254  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/1. 

"  Michael,  you  dog!  Michael!  If  you  can 
stand,  come  on!  "  cried  Rupert;  and  he  advanced  a 
step,  the  group  shrinking  back  a  little  before  him. 
"  Michael,  you  bastard!  come  on!  " 

The  answer  to  his  taunts  came  in  the  wild  cry  of 
a  woman : 

"  He's  dead !     My  God,  he's  dead !  " 

"Dead!"  shouted  Rupert.  "I  struck  better 
than  I  knew! "  and  he  laughed  triumphantly. 
Then  he  went  on:  "  Down  with  your  weapons 
there!  I'm  your  master  now!  Down  with  them, 
I  say!" 

I  believe  they  would  have  obeyed,  but  as  he 
spoke  came  new  things.  First,  there  arose  a  dis- 
tant sound,  as  of  shouts  and  knockings  from  the 
other  side  of  the  chateau.  My  heart  leaped.  It 
must  be  my  men,  come  by  a  happy  disobedience  to 
seek  me.  The  noise  continued,  but  none  of  the 
rest  seemed  to  heed  it.  Their  attention  was 
chained  by  what  now  happened  before  their  eyes. 
The  group  of  servants  parted  and  a  woman  stag- 
gered on  to  the  bridge.  Antoinette  de  Mauban 
was  in  a  loose  white  robe,  her  dark  hair  streamed 


FACE   TO  FACE  IN   THE  FOREST.  255 

over  her  shoulders,  her  face  was  ghastly  pale,  and 
her  eyes  gleamed  wildly  in  the  light  of  the  torches. 
In  her  shaking  hand  she  held  a  revolver,  and  as  she 
tottered  forward  she  fired  it  at  Rupert  Hentzau. 
The  ball  missed  him  and  struck  the  woodwork  over 
my  head. 

"  Faith,  madame,"  laughed  Rupert,  "  had  your 
eyes  been  no  more  deadly  than  your  shooting  I  had 
not  been  in  this  scrape — nor  Black  Michael  in  hell 
—to-night!" 

She  took  no  notice  of  his  words.  With  a  won- 
derful effort  she  calmed  herself  till  she  stood  still 
and  rigid.  Then,  very  slowly  and  deliberately,  she 
began  to  raise  her  arm  again,  taking  most  careful 
aim. 

He  would  be  mad  to  risk  it.  He  must  rush  on 
her,  chancing  the  bullet,  or  retreat  toward  me.  I 
covered  him  with  my  weapon. 

He  did  neither.  Before  she  had  got  her  aim  he 
bowed  in  his  most  graceful  fashion,  cried,  "  I  can't 
kill  where  I've  kissed,"  and  before  she  or  I  could 
stop  him  laid  his  hand  on  the  parapet  of  the  bridge, 
and  lightly  leaped  into  the  moat. 


256  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

At  the  very  moment  I  heard  a  rush  of  feet,  and  a 
voice  I  knew — Sapt's — cry:  "  God!  it's  the  duke- 
dead!  "  Then  I  knew  that  the  king  needed  me  no 
more,  and,  throwing  down  my  revolver,  I  sprang 
out  on  the  bridge.  There  was  a  cry  of  wild  won- 
der, "  The  king!  "  and  then  I,  like  Rupert  Hent- 
zau,  sword  in  hand,  vaulted  over  the  parapet,  intent 
on  finishing  my  quarrel  with  him  where  I  saw  his 
curly  head  fifteen  yards  off  in  the  water  of  the  moat. 

He  swam  swiftly  and  easily.  I  was  weary  and 
half  crippled  with  my  wounded  arm.  I  could  not 
gain  on  him.  For  a  time  I  made  no  sound,  but 
as  we  rounded  the  corner  of  the  old  keep  I  cried: 

"Stop,  Rupert,  stop!" 

I  saw  him  look  over  his  shoulder,  but  he  swam 
on.  He  was  under  the  bank  now,  searching,  as  I 
guessed,  for  a  spot  that  he  could  climb.  I  knew 
there  to  be  none — but  there  was  my  rope,  which 
would  still  be  hanging  where  I  had  left  it.  He 
would  come  to  where  it  was  before  I  could.  Per- 
haps he  would  miss  it — perhaps  he  would  find  it; 
and  if  he  drew  it  up  after  him  he  would  get  a  good 
start  of  me.  I  put  forth  all  my  remaining  strength 


FACE   TO  FACE  IN   THE  FOREST.  257 

and  pressed  on.  At  last  I  began  to  gain  on  him; 
for  he,  occupied  with  his  search,  unconsciously 
slackened  his  pace. 

Ah,  he  had  found  it!  A  low  shout  of  triumph 
came  from  him.  He  laid  hold  of  it  and  began  to 
haul  himself  up.  I  was  near  enough  to  hea.r  him 
mutter:  "  How  the  devil  comes  this  here?  "  I  was 
at  the  rope,  and  he,  hanging  in  midair,  saw  me;  but 
I  could  not  reach  him. 

"  Hullo!  who's  here?  "  he  cried  in  startled  tones. 

For  a  moment  I  believe  he  took  me  for  the  king 
— I  dare  say  I  was  pale  enough  to  lend  color  to  the 
thought;  but  an  instant  later  he  cried: 

"  Why,  it's  the  play-actor!  How  came  you  here, 
man?" 

And  so  saying  he  gained  the  bank. 

I  laid  hold  of  the  rope,  but  I  paused.  He  stood 
on  the  bank,  sword  in  hand,  and  he  could  cut  my 
head  open  or  spit  me  through  the  heart  as  I  came 
up.  I  let  go  the  rope. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  I;  "  but  as  I'm  here  I  think 
I'll  stay." 

He  smiled  down  on  me. 


258  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

"  These  women  are  the  deuce "  he  began, 

when  suddenly  the  great  bell  of  the  castle  began  to 
ring  furiously,  and  a  loud  shout  reached  us  from  the 
moat. 

Rupert  smiled  again  and  waved  his  hand  to  me. 

"I  should  like  a  turn  with  you,  but  it's  a  little  too 
hot!  "  said  he,  and  he  disappeared  from  above  me. 

In  an  instant,  without  thinking  of  danger,  I  laid 
my  hand  to  the  rope.  I  was  up.  I  saw  him  thirty 
yards  off,  running  like  a  deer  toward  the  shelter  of 
the  forest.  For  once  Rupert  Hentzau  had  chosen 
discretion  for  his  part.  I  laid  my  feet  to  the 
ground  and  rushed  after  him,  calling  to  him  to 
stand.  He  would  not.  Unwounded  and  vigor- 
ous, he  gained  on  me  at  every  step ;  but,  forgetting 
everything  in  the  world  except  him  and  my  thirst 
for  his  blood,  I  pressed  on,  and  soon  the  deep 
shades  of  the  forest  of  Zenda  engulfed  us  both,  pur- 
sued and  pursuer. 

It  was  three  o'clock  now,  and  day  was  dawning. 
I  was  on  a  long,  straight  grass  avenue,  and  a  hun- 
dred yards  ahead  ran  young  Rupert,  his  curls  wav- 
ing in  the  fresh  breeze.  I  was  weary  and  panting; 


FACE  TO  FACE  IN  THE  FOREST.  259 

he  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  waved  his  hand 
again  to  me.  He  was  mocking  me,  for  he  saw  he 
had  the  pace  of  me.  I  was  forced  to  pause  for 
breath.  A  moment  later  Rupert  turned  sharply  to 
the  right  and  was  lost  from  my  sight. 

I  thought  all  was  over,  and  in  deep  vexation  sank 
on  the  ground.  But  I  was  up  again  directly,  for  a 
scream  rang  through  the  forest — a  woman's 
scream.  Putting  forth  the  last  of  my  strength,  I 
ran  on  to  the  place  where  he  had  turned  out  of 
sight,  and  turning  also,  I  saw  him  again.  But  alas! 
I  could  not  touch  him.  He  was  in  the  act  of  lift- 
ing a  girl  down  from  her  horse;  doubtless  it  was 
her  scream  that  I  heard.  She  looked  like  a  small 
farmer's  or  a  peasant's  daughter,  and  she  carried 
a  basket  on  her  arm.  Probably  she  was  on  her  way 
to  the  early  market  at  Zenda.  Her  horse  was  a 
stout,  well-shaped  animal.  Master  Rupert  lifted 
her  down  amid  her  shrieks — the  sight  of  him  fright- 
ened her;  but  he  treated  her  gently,  laughed,  kissed 
her,  and  gave  her  money.  Then  he  jumped  on  the 
horse,  sitting  sideways  like  a  woman;  and  then  he 
waited  for  me.  I,  on  my  part,  waited  for  him. 


260  THE  PRISONER.   OF  ZEND4. 

Presently  he  rode  toward  me,  keeping-  his  dis- 
tance however.  He  lifted  up  his  hand,  saying: 

"  What  did  you  in  the  castle?  " 

"  I  killed  three  of  your  friends,"  said  I. 

"  What!     You  got  to  the  cells?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  the  king?  " 

"  He  was  hurt  by  Detchard  before  I  killed  Det- 
chard,  but  I  pray  that  he  lives." 

"  You  fool!  "  said  Rupert  pleasantly. 

"  One  thing  more  I  did." 

"And  what's  that?" 

"  I  spared  your  life.  I  was  behind  you  on  the 
bridge,  with  a  revolver  in  my  hand." 

"  No?     Faith,  I  was  between  two  fires!  " 

"  Get  off  your  horse,"  I  cried,  "  and  fight  like  a 
man." 

"  Before  a  lady!  "  said  he,  pointing  to  the  girl. 
"  Fie,  your  Majesty!  " 

Then  in  my  rage,  hardly  knowing  what  I  did, 
I  rushed  at  him.  For  a  moment  he  seemed  to 
waver.  Then  he  reined  his  horse  in  and  stood 
waiting  for  me.  On  I  went  in  my  folly.  I  seized 


FACE   TO  FACE  IN  THE  FOREST.  261 

the  bridle  and  I  struck  at  him.  He  parried  and 
thrust  at  me.  I  fell  back  a  pace  and  rushed  in  at 
him  again;  and  this  time  I  reached  his  face  and  laid 
his  cheek  open,  and  darted  back  before  he  could 
strike  me.  He  seemed  almost  mazed  at  the  fierce- 
ness of  my  attack;  otherwise  I  think  he  must  have 
killed  me.  I  sank  on  my  knee,  panting,  expecting 
him  to  ride  at  me.  And  so  he  would  have  done, 
and  then  and  there,  I  doubt  not,  one  or  both  of 
us  would  have  died;  but  at  the  moment  there  came 
a  shout  from  behind  us,  and,  looking  round,  I  saw 
just  at  the  turn  of  the  avenue  a  man  on  a  horse. 
He  was  riding  hard,  and  he  carried  a  revolver  in 
his  hand.  It  was  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim,  my  faith- 
ful friend.  Rupert  saw  him,  and  knew  that  the 
game  was  up.  He  checked  his  rush  at  me  and 
flung  his  leg  over  the  saddle,  but  yet  for  just  a  mo- 
ment he  waited.  Leaning  forward,  he  tossed  his 
hair  off  his  forehead  and  smiled,  and  said: 

"Au  revoir,  Rudolf  Rassendyll!  " 

Then,  with  his  cheek  streaming  blood,  but  his 
lips  laughing  and  his  body  swaying  with  ease  and 
grace,  he  bowed  to  me;  and  he  bowed  to  the  farm- 


262  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

girl,  who  had  drawn  near  in  trembling  fascination; 
and  he  waved  his  hand  to  Fritz,  who  was  just  within 
range  and  let  fly  a  shot  at  him.  The  ball  came 
nigh  doing  its  work,  for  it  struck  the  sword  he  held, 
and  he  dropped  the  sword  with  an  oath,  wringing 
his  fingers,  and  clapped  his  heels  hard  in  his 
horse's  belly,  and  rode  away  at  a  gallop. 

And  I  watched  him  go  down  the  long  avenue, 
riding  as  though  he  rode  for  his  pleasure  and  sing- 
ing as  he  went,  for  all  there  was  that  gash  in  his 
cheek. 

Once  again  he  turned  to  wave  his  hand,  and  then 
the  gloom  of  the  thickets  swallowed  him  and  he 
was  lost  from  our  sight.  Thus  he  vanished — reck- 
less and  wary,  graceful  and  graceless,  handsome, 
debonair,  vile,  and  unconquered.  And  I  flung  my 
sword  passionately  on  the  ground  and  cried  to 
Fritz  to  ride  after  him.  But  Fritz  stopped  his 
horse,  and  leaped  down  and  ran  to  me,  and  knelt, 
putting  his  arm  about  me.  And  indeed  it  was 
time,  for  the  wound  that  Detchard  had  given  me 
was  broken  forth  afresh,  and  my  blood  was  staining 
the  ground. 


FACE  TO  FACE  IN  THE  FOREST.  263 

"  Then  give  me  the  horse!  "  I  cried,  staggering 
to  my  feet  and  throwing  his  arms  off  me.  And  the 
strength  of  my  rage  carried  me  so  far  as  where  the 
horse  stood,  and  then  I  fell  prone  beside  it.  And 
Fritz  knelt  by  me  again. 

"Fritz!"  I  said. 

"  Aye,  friend — dear  friend!  "  said  he,  tender  as  a 
woman. 

"  Is  the  king  alive?  " 

He  took  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  my  lips,  and 
bent  and  kissed  me  on  the  forehead. 

"  Thanks  to  the  most  gallant  gentleman  that 
lives,"  said  he  softly,  "  the  king  is  alive!  " 

The  little  farm-girl  stood  by  us,  weeping  for 
fright  and  wide-eyed  for  wonder;  for  she  had  seen 
me  at  Zenda;  and  was  not  I,  pallid,  dripping, 
foul,  and  bloody  as  I  was — yet  was  not  I  the 
king? 

And  when  I  heard  that  the  king  was  alive  I 
strove  to  cry  "  Hurrah!  "  But  I  could  not  speak, 
and  I  laid  my  head  back  in  Fritz's  arms  and  closed 
my  eyes,  and  I  groaned;  and  then,  lest  Fritz  should 
do  me  wrong  in  his  thoughts,  I  opened  my  eyes  and 


264  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

tried  to  say  "  Hurrah!"  again.  But  I  could  not. 
And  being"  very  tired,  and  now  very  cold,  I  huddled 
myself  close  up  to  Fritz,  to  get  the  warmth  of  him, 
and  shut  my  eyes  again  and  went  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  PRISONER  AND  THE  KING. 

IN  order  to  a  full  understanding  of  what  had  oc- 
curred in  the  castle  of  Zenda  it  is  necessary  to  sup- 
plement my  account  of  what  I  myself  saw  and  did 
on  that  night  by  relating  briefly  what  I  afterward 
learned  from  Fritz  and  from  Mme.  de  Mauban. 
The  story  told  by  the  latter  explained  clearly  how 
it  happened  that  the  cry  which  I  had  arranged  as  a 
stratagem  and  a  sham  had  come,  in  dreadful  reality, 
before  its  time,  and  had  thus,  as  it  seemed  at  the 
moment,  ruined  our  hopes,  while  in  the  end  it 
favored  them.  The  unhappy  woman,  fired,  I  be- 
lieve, by  a  genuine  attachment  to  the  Duke  of 
Strelsau,  no  less  than  by  the  dazzling  prospects 
which  a  dominion  over  him  opened  before  her  eyes, 
had  followed  him  at  his  request  from  Paris  to  Ruri- 
tania.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  passions,  but  of 

stronger  will,  and  his  cool  head  ruled  both.     He 

265 


266  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND/t. 

was  content  to  take  all  and  give  nothing.  When 
she  arrived  she  was  not  long  in  finding  that  she  had 
a  rival  in  the  Princess  Flavia;  rendered  desperate, 
she  stood  at  nothing  which  might  give  or  keep  her 
power  over  the  duke.  As  I  say,  he  took  and  gave 
not.  Simultaneously  Antoinette  found  herself  en- 
tangled in  his  audacious  schemes.  Unwilling  to 
abandon  him,  bound  to  him  by  the  chains  of  shame 
and  hope,  she  yet  would  not  be  a  decoy,  nor  at  his 
bidding  lure  me  to  death.  Hence  the  letters  of 
warning  she  had  written.  Whether  the  lines  she 
sent  to  Flavia  were  inspired  by  good  or  bad  feeling, 
by  jealousy  or  by  pity,  I  do  not  know;  but  here  also 
she  served  us  well.  When  the  duke  went  to  Zenda 
she  accompanied  him;  and  here  for  the  first  time 
she  learned  the  full  measure  of  his  cruelty,  and 
was  touched  with  compassion  for  the  unfortunate 
king.  From  this  time  she  was  with  us;  yet,  from 
what  she  told  me,  I  knew  that  she  still  (as 
women  will)  loved  Michael,  and  trusted  to  gain  his 
life,  if  not  his  pardon,  from  the  king  as  the  reward 
for  her  assistance.  His  triumph  she  did  not  desire, 
for  she  loathed  his  crime,  and  loathed  yet  more 


THE  PRISONER  AND   THE  KING  267 

fiercely  what  would  be  the  prize  of  it — his  marriage 
wyith  his  cousin,  Princess  Flavia. 

At  Zenda  new  forces  came  into  play — the  lust 
and  daring  of  young  Rupert.  He  was  caught  by 
her  beauty,  perhaps;  perhaps  it  was  enough  for 
him  that  she  belonged  to  another  man,  and  that  she 
hated  him.  For  many  days  there  had  been  quar- 
rels and  ill  will  between  him  and  the  duke,  and  the 
scene  which  I  had  witnessed  in  the  duke's  room  was 
but  one  of  many.  Rupert's  proposals  to  me,  of 
which  she  had  of  course  been  ignorant,  in  no  way 
surprised  her  when  I  related  them;  she  had  herself 
warned  Michael  against  Rupert,  even  when  she  was 
calling  on  me  to  deliver  her  from  both  of  them. 
On  this  night,  then,  Rupert  had  determined  to  have 
his  will.  When  she  had  gone  to  her  room  he,  hav- 
ing furnished  himself  with  a  key  to  it,  had  made  his 
entrance.  Her  cries  had  brought  the  duke,  and 
there  in  the  dark  room  while  she  screamed,  the 
men  had  fought;  and  Rupert,  having  wounded  his 
master  with  a  mortal  blow,  had,  on  the  servants 
rushing  in,  escaped  through  the  window  as  I  have 
described.  The  duke's  blood,  spurting  out,  had 


268  THE  PRISONER    OF  ZENDA. 

stained  his  opponent's  shirt;  but  Rupert,  not  know- 
ing that  he  had  dealt  Michael  his  death,  was  eager 
to  finish  the  encounter.  How  he  meant  to  deal 
with  the  other  three  of  the  band  I  know  not.  I 
dare  say  he  did  not  think,  for  the  killing  of  Michael 
was  not  premeditated.  Antoinette,  left  alone  with 
the  duke,  had  tried  to  stanch  his  wound,  and  thus 
was  she  busied  till  he  died;  and  then,  hearing  Ru- 
pert's taunts,  she  had  come  forth  to  avenge  him. 
Me  she  had  not  seen,  nor  did  she  till  I  darted  out 
of  my  ambush  and  leaped  after  Rupert  into  the 
moat. 

The  same  moment  found  my  friends  on  the 
scene.  They  had  reached  the  chateau  in  due  time, 
and  waited  ready  by  the  door.  But  Johann,  swept 
with  the  rest  to  the  rescue  of  the  duke,  did  not  open 
it,  nay,  he  took  a  part  against  Rupert,  putting  him- 
self forward  more  bravely  than  any  in  his  anxiety 
to  avert  suspicion;  and  he  had  received  a  wound, 
in  the  embrasure  of  the  window.  Till  nearly  half- 
past  two  Sapt  waited;  then,  following  my  orders, 
he  had  sent  Fritz  to  search  the  banks  of  the  moat. 
I  was  not  there.  Hastening  back,  Fritz  told  Sapt; 


THE  PRISONER  AND   THE  KING.  269 

and  Sapt  was  for  following  orders  still,  and  riding 
at  full  speed  back  to  Tarlenheim ;  while  Fritz  would 
not  hear  of  abandoning  me,  let  me  have  ordered 
what  I  would.  On  this  they  disputed  some  few 
minutes;  then  Sapt,  persuaded  by  Fritz,  detached  a 
party  under  Bernenstein  to  gallop  back  to  Tarlen- 
heim  and  bring  up  the  marshal,  while  the  rest  fell 
to  on  the  great  door  of  the  chateau.  For  nearly 
fifteen  minutes  it  resisted  them;  then,  just  as  An- 
toinette de  Mauban  fired  at  Rupert  Hentzau  on 
the  bridge,  they  broke  in,  eight  of  them  in  all:  and 
the  first  door  they  came  to  was  the  door  of 
Michael's  room;  and  Michael  lay  dead  across  the 
threshold,  with  a  sword  thrust  through  his  breast. 
Sapt  cried  out  at  his  death,  as  I  had  heard,  and  they 
rushed  on  the  servants;  but  these,  in  fear,  dropped 
their  weapons,  and  Antoinette  flung  herself,  weep- 
ing, at  Sapt's  feet.  And  all  she  cried  was  that  I 
had  been  at  the  end  of  the  bridge  and  had  leaped 
off.  "  What  of  the  prisoner?  "  asked  Sapt;  but  she 
shook  her  head.  Then  Sapt  and  Fritz,  with  the 
gentlemen  behind  them,  crossed  the  bridge,  slowly, 
warily,  and  without  noise;  and  Fritz  stumbled  over 


270  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEKDA. 

the  body  of  De  Gautet  in  the  way  of  the  door. 
They  felt  him  and  found  him  dead. 

Then  they  consulted,  listening  eagerly  for  any 
sound  from  the  cells  below;  but  there  came  none, 
and  they  were  greatly  afraid  that  the  king's  guards 
had  killed  him,  and  having  pushed  his  body 
through  the  great  pipe,  had  escaped  the  same  way 
themselves.  Yet,  because  I  had  been  seen  here, 
they  had  still  some  hope  (thus  indeed  Fritz,  in  his 
friendship,  told  me);  and  going  back  to  Michael's 
body,  pushing  aside  Antoinette,  who  prayed  by  it, 
they  found  a  key  to  the  door  which  I  had  locked, 
and  opened  the  door.  The  staircase  was  dark,  and 
they  would  not  use  a  torch  at  first,  lest  they  should 
be  the  more  exposed  to  fire.  But  soon  Fritz  cried : 
"The  door  down  there  is  open!  See,  there  is 
light!  "  So  they  went  on  boldly,  and  found  none 
to  oppose  them.  And  when  they  came  to  the 
outer  room  and  saw  the  Belgian,  Bersonin,  lying 
dead,  they  thanked  God,  Sapt  saying:  "  Aye,  he  has 
been  here."  Then  rushing  into  the  king's  cell, 
they  found  Detchard  lying  dead  across  the  dead 
physician,  and  the  king  on  his  back  with  his  chair 


THE  PRISONER  AND   THE  KING.  271 

by  him.  And  Fritz  cried:  "  He's  dead!  "  and  Sapt 
drove  all  out  of  the  room  except  Fritz,  and  knelt 
down  by  the  king;  and,  having  learned  more  of 
wounds  and  the  signs  of  death  than  I,  he  soon  knew 
that  the  king  was  not  dead,  nor,  if  properly  at- 
tended, would  die.  And  they  covered  his  face  and 
carried  him  to  Duke  Michael's  room,  and  laid  him 
there;  and  Antoinette  rose  from  praying  by  the 
body  of  the  duke  and  went  to  bathe  the  king's  head 
and  dress  his  wounds,  till  a  doctor  came.  And 
Sapt,  seeing  I  had  been  there,  and  having  heard 
Antoinette's  story,  sent  Fritz  to  search  the  moat 
and  then  the  forest.  He  dared  send  no  one  else. 
And  Fritz  found  my  horse,  and  feared  the  worst. 
Then,  as  I  have  told,  he  found  me,  guided  by  the 
shout  with  which  I  had  called  on  Rupert  to  stop 
and  face  me.  And  I  think  a  man  has  never  been 
more  glad  to  find  his  own  brother  alive  than  was 
Fritz  to  come  on  me;  so  that,  in  love  and  anxiety 
for  me,  he  thought  nothing  of  a  thing  so  great  as 
would  have  been  the  death  of  Rupert  Hentzau. 
Yet,  had  Fritz  killed  him,  I  should  have  grudged  it. 
The  enterprise  of  the  king's  rescue  being  thus 


272  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

prosperously  concluded,  it  lay  on  Colonel  Sapt  to 
secure  security  as  to  the  king  ever  having  been  in 
need  of  rescue.  Antoinette  de  Mauban  and 
Johann,  the  keeper  (who,  indeed,  was  too  much 
hurt  to  be  wagging  his  tongue  just  now),  were 
sworn  to  reveal  nothing;  and  Fritz  went  forth  to 
find — not  the  king,  but  the  unnamed  friend  of  the 
king,  who  had  lain  in  Zenda  and  flashed  for  a  mo- 
ment before  the  dazed  eyes  of  Duke  Michael's  serv- 
ants on  the  drawbridge.  The  metamorphosis  had 
happened:  and  the  king,  wounded  almost  to  death' 
by  the  attacks  of  the  jailers  who  guarded  his  friend. 
had  at  last  overcome  them,  and  rested  now, 
wounded,  but  alive,  in  Black  Michael's  own  room 
in  the  castle.  There  he  had  been  carried,  his  face 
covered  with  a  cloak,  from  the  cell;  and  thence 
orders  issued  that  if  his  friend  were  found  he 
should  be  brought  directly  and  privately  to  the 
king,  and  that  meanwhile  messengers  should  ride 
at  full  speed  to  Tarlenheim  to  tell  Marshal  Stra- 
kencz  to  assure  the  princess  of  the  king's  safety,  and 
to  come  himself  with  all  speed  to  greet  the  king. 
The  princess  was  enjoined  to  remain  at  Tarlenheim, 


THE  PRISONER  AND   THE  KING.  273 

and  there  await  her  cousin's  coming  or  his  further 
injunctions.  Thus  the  king  would  come  to  his 
own  again,  having  wrought  brave  deeds,  and  es- 
caped, almost  by  a  miracle,  the  treacherous  assault 
of  his  unnatural  brother. 

This  ingenious  arrangement  of  my  long-headed 
old  friend  prospered  in  every  way,  save  where  it 
encountered  a  force  that  often  defeats  the  most 
cunning  schemes.  I  mean  nothing  else  than  the 
pleasure  of  a  woman.  For  let  her  cousin  and  sov- 
ereign send  what  command  he  chose  (or  Colonel 
Sapt  chose  for  him),  and  let  Marshal  Strakencz  in- 
sist as  he  would,  the  Princess  Flavia  was  in  no  way 
minded  to  rest  at  Tarlenheim  while  her  lover  lay 
wounded  at  Zenda;  and  when  the  marshal,  with  a 
small  suite,  rode  forth  from  Tarlenheim  on  the  way 
to  Zenda  the  princess'  carriage  followed  immedi- 
ately behind,  and  in  this  order  they  passed  through 
the  town,  where  the  report  was  already  rife  that 
the  king,  going  the  night  before  to  remonstrate 
with  his  brother,  in  all  friendliness,  for  that  he  held 
one  of  the  king's  friends  in  confinement  in  the 
castle,  had  been  most  traitorously  set  upon;  that 


274  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

there  had  been  a  desperate  conflict;  that  the  duke 
was  slain  with  several  of  his  gentlemen;  and  that 
the  king,  wounded  as  he  was,  had  seized  and  held 
the  castle  of  Zenda.  All  of  which  talk  made,  as 
may  be  supposed,  a  mighty  excitement;  and  the 
wires  were  set  in  motion,  and  the  tidings  came  to 
Strelsau  only  just  after  orders  had  been  sent  thither 
to  parade  the  troops  and  overawe  the  dissatisfied 
quarters  of  the  town  with  a  display  of  force. 

Thus  the  Princess  Flavia  came  to  Zenda.  And 
as  she  drove  up  the  hill,  with  the  marshal  riding 
by  the  wheel  and  still  imploring  her  to  return  in 
obedience  to  the  king's  orders,  Fritz  von  Tarlen- 
heim,  with  the  prisoner  of  Zenda,  came  to  the  edge 
of  the  forest.  I  had  revived  from  my  swoon,  and 
walked,  resting  on  Fritz's  arm;  and  looking  out 
from  the  cover  of  the  trees,  I  saw  the  princess. 
Suddenly  understanding  from  a  glance  at  my  com- 
panion's face  that  we  must  not  meet  her,  I  sank  on 
my  knees  behind  a  clump  of  bushes.  But  there 
was  one  whom  we  had  forgotten,  but  who  followed 
us,  and  was  not  disposed  to  let  slip  the  chance  of 
earning  a  smile  and  maybe  a  crown  or  two;  and 


THE  PRISONER  4ND   THE  KING.  275 

while  we  lay  hidden  the  little  farm-girl  came  by  us 
and  ran  to  the  princess,  courtesying  and  crying: 

"  Madame,  the  king  is  here — in  the  bushes? 
May  I  guide  you  to  him,  madame?  " 

"Nonsense,  child!"  said  old  Strakencz;  "the 
king  lies  wounded  in  the  castle." 

:'  Yes,  sir,  he's  wounded,  I  know;  but  he's  there 
— with  Count  Fritz — and  not  at  the  castle,"  she 
persisted. 

"  Is  he  in  two  places,  or  are  there  two  kings?  " 
asked  Flavia,  bewildered.  "  And  how  should  he 
be  here?  " 

"  He  pursued  a  gentleman,  madame,  and  they 
fought  till  Count  Fritz  came;  and  the  other  gentle- 
man took  my  father's  horse  from  me  and  rode 
away;  but  the  king  is  here  with  Count  Fritz.  Why, 
madame,  is  there  another  man  in  Ruritania  like  the 
king?  " 

"  No,  my  child,"  said  Flavia  softly  (I  was  told  it 
afterward),  and  she  smiled  and  gave  the  girl  money. 
"  I  will  go  and  see  the  gentleman,"  and  she  rose  to 
alight  from  the  carriage. 

But  at  this  moment  Sapt  came  riding  from  the 


276  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

castle,  and,  seeing  the  princess,  made  the  best  of  a 
bad  job,  and  cried  to  her  that  the  king  was  well 
tended  and  in  no  danger. 

"  In  the  castle?  "  she  asked. 

11  Where  else,  madame?  "  said  he,  bowing. 

"  But  this  girl  says  he  is  yonder — with  Count 
Fritz." 

Sapt  turned  his  eyes  on  the  child  with  an  incredu- 
lous smile. 

"  Every  fine  gentleman  is  a  king  to  such,"  said 
he. 

"  Why,  he's  as  like  the  king  as  one  pea  to  an- 
other, madame!  "  cried  the  girl,  a  little  shaken,  but 
still  obstinate. 

Sapt  started  round.  The  old  marshal's  face 
asked  unspoken  questions.  Flavia's  glance  was  no 
less  eloquent.  Suspicion  spreads  quick. 

"  I'll  ride  myself  and  see  this  man,"  said  Sapt 
hastily. 

"  Nay,  I'll  come  myself,"  said  the  princess. 

"  Then  come  alone,"  he  whispered. 

And  she,  obedient  to  the  strange  hinting  in  his 
face,  prayed  the  marshal  and  the  rest  to  wait;  and 


THE  PRISONER  AND    THE  KING.  277 

she  and  Sapt  came  on  foot  toward  where  we  lay, 
Sapt  waving  to  the  farm-girl  to  keep  at  a  distance. 
And  when  I  saw  them  coming  I  sat  in  a  sad  heap 
on  the  ground,  and  buried  my  face  in  my  hands. 
I  could  not  look  at  her.  Fritz  knelt  by  me,  laying 
his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"  Speak  low,  whatever  you  say,"  I  heard  Sapt 
whisper  as  they  came  up,  and  the  next  thing  I 
heard  was  a  low  cry — half  of  joy,  half  of  fear — from 
the  princess: 

"It  is  he!     Are  you  hurt?" 

And  she  fell  on  the  ground  by  me  and  gently 
pulled  my  hands  away;  but  I  kept  my  eyes  to  the 
ground. 

"  It  is  the  king!  "  she  said.  "  Pray,  Colonel 
Sapt,  tell  me  where  lay  the  wit  of  the  joke  you 
played  on  me?  " 

We  answered  none  of  us;  we  three  were  silent 
before  her.  Regardless  of  them,  she  threw  her 
arms  round  my  neck  and  kissed  me.  Then  Sapt 
spoke  in  a  low,  hoarse  whisper: 

"  It  is  not  the  king.  Don't  kiss  him;  he's  not  the 
king." 


278  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

She  drew  back  for  a  moment;  then,  with  an  arm 
still  round  my  neck,  she  asked  in  superb  indig- 
nation: 

"  Do  I  not  know  my  love?     Rudolf,  my  love!  " 

"  It  is  not  the  king,"  said  old  Sapt  again;  and  a 
sudden  sob  broke  from  tender-hearted  Fritz. 

It  was  the  sob  that  told  her  no  comedy  was  afoot. 

"  He  is  the  king!  "  she  cried.  "  It  is  the  king's 
face — the  king's  ring — my  ring!  It  is  my  love!  " 

"  Your  love,  nrndame,"  said  old  Sapt,  "  but  not 
the  king.  The  king  is  there  in  the  castle.  This 
gentleman " 

"  Look  at  me,  Rudolf!  look  at  me! "  she  cried, 
taking  my  face  between  her  hands.  "  Why  do  you 
let  them  torment  me?  Tell  me  what  it  means!  " 

Then  I  spoke,  gazing  into  her  eyes. 

"  God  forgive  me,  madame!  "  I  said.  "  I  am  not 
the  king!  " 

I  felt  her  hands  clutch  my  cheeks.  She  gazed 
at  me  as  never  man's  face  was  scanned  yet.  And 
I,  silent  again,  saw  wonder  born,  and  doubt  grow, 
and  terror  spring  to  life  as  she  looked.  And  very 
gradually  the  grasp  of  her  hands  slackened;  she 


THE  PRISONER  AND   THE  KING.  279 

turned  to  Sapt,  to  Fritz,  and  back  to  me;  then  sud- 
denly she  reeled  forward  and  fell  in  my  arms;  and 
with  a  great  cry  of  pain  I  gathered  her  to  me  and 
kissed  her  lips.  Sapt  laid  his  hand  on  my  arm.  I 
looked  up  in  his  face.  And  I  laid  her  softly  on  the 
ground,  and  stood  up,  looking  on  her,  cursing 
Heaven  that  young  Rupert's  sword  had  spared  me 
for  this  sharper  pang. 


CHAPTER   XXL 

IF     LOVE     WERE     ALL. 

IT  was  night,  and  I  was  in  the  cell  wherein  the 
king  had  lain  in  the  castle  of  Zenda.  The  great 
pipe  that  Rupert  of  Hentzau  had  nicknamed 
"  Jacob's  ladder  "  was  gone,  and  the  lights  in  the 
room  across  the  moat  twinkled  in  the  darkness. 
All  was  still;  the  din  and  clash  of  strife  were  gone. 
I  had  spent  the  day  hidden  in  the  forest  from  the 
time  when  Fritz  had  led  me  off,  leaving  Sapt  with 
the  princess.  Under  cover  of  dusk,  muffled  up,  I 
had  been  brought  to  the  castle  and  lodged  where  I 
now  lay.  Though  three  men  had  died  there — two 
of  them  by  my  hand — I  was  not  troubled  by 
ghosts.  I  had  thrown  myself  on  a  pallet  by  the 
window,  and  was  looking  out  on  the  black  water; 
Johann,  the  keeper,  still  pale  from  his  wound,  but 
not  much  hurt  besides,  had  brought  me  supper. 
He  told  me  that  the  king  was  doing  well,  that  he 


IF  LO1/E   WERE  ALL!  281 

had  seen  the  princess;  that  she  and  he,  Sapt  and 
Fritz  had  been  long  together.  Marshal  Strakencz 
was  gone  to  Strelsau;  Black  Michael  lay  in  his 
coffin,  and  Antoinette  de  Mauban  watched  by  him. 
Had  I  not  heard  from  the  chapel  priests  singing 
Mass  for  him? 

Outside  there  were  strange  rumors  afloat. 
Some  said  that  the  prisoner  of  Zenda  was  dead; 
some,  that  he  had  vanished  yet  alive;  some,  that 
he  was  a  friend  who  had  served  the  king  well  in 
some  adventure  in  England;  others,  that  he  had 
discovered  the  duke's  plots,  and  had  therefore  been 
kidnaped  by  him.  One  or  two  shrewd  fellows 
shook  their  heads  and  said  only  that  they  would 
say  nothing,  but  they  had  suspicions  that  more  was 
to  be  known  than  was  known  if  Colonel  Sapt  would 
tell  all  he  knew. 

Thus  Johann  chattered  till  I  sent  him  away  and 
lay  there  alone,  thinking,  not  of  the  future,  but — 
as  a  man  is  wont  to  do  when  stirring  things  have 
happened  to  him — rehearsing  the  events  of  the  past 
weeks,  and  wondering  how  strangely  they  had 
fallen  out.  And  above  me  in  the  stillness  of  the 


282  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEN  DA. 

night  I  heard  the  standards  flapping  against  their 
poles,  for  Black  Michael's  banner  hung  there  half- 
mast  high,  and  above  it  the  royal  flag  of  Ruritania, 
floating  for  one  night  more  over  my  head.  Habit 
grows  so  quick  that  only  by  an  effort  did  I  recol- 
lect that  it  floated  no  longer  for  me. 

Presently  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  came  into  the 
room.  I  was  standing  then  by  the  window;  the 
glass  was  opened,  and  I  was  idly  fingering  the 
cement  which  clung  to  the  masonry  where 
"  Jacob's  ladder  "  had  been.  He  told  me  briefly 
that  the  king  wanted  me,  and  together  we  crossed 
the  drawbridge  and  entered  the  room  that  had 
been  Black  Michael's. 

The  king  was  lying  there  in  bed;  our  doctor 
from  Tarlenheim  was  in  attendance  on  him,  and 
whispered  to  me  that  my  visit  must  be  brief.  The 
king  held  out  his  hand  and  shook  mine.  Fritz  and 
the  doctor  withdrew  to  the  window. 

I  took  the  king's  ring  from  my  finger  and  placed 
it  on  his. 

"  I  have  tried  not  to  dishonor  it,  sire,"  said  I. 

"  I  can't  talk  much  to  you,"  he  said  in  a  weak 


IF  LOYE   IV ERE  ALL!  283 

voice.  "  I  have  had  a  great  fight  with  Sapt  and 
the  marshal — for  we  have  told  the  marshal  every- 
thing. I  wanted  to  take  you  to  Strelsau  and  keep 
you  with  me,  and  tell  everyone  of  what  you  had 
done;  and  you  would  have  been  my  best  and 
nearest  friend,  Cousin  Rudolf.  But  they  tell  me  I 
must  not,  and  that  the  secret  must  be  kept — if  kept 
it  can  be." 

'  They  are  right,  sire.  Let  me  go.  My  work 
here  is  done." 

''  Yes,  it  is  done,  as  no  man  but  you  could  have 
done  it.  When  they  see  me  again  I  shall  have  my 
beard  on;  I  shall — yes,  faith,  I  shall  be  wasted  with 
sickness.  They  will  not  wonder  that  the  king 
looks  changed  in  face.  Cousin,  I  shall  try  to  let 
them  find  him  changed  in  nothing  else.  You  have 
shown  me  how  to  play  the  king." 

"  Sire,"  said  I,  "  I  can  take  no  praise  from  you. 
It  is  by  the  narrowest  grace  of  God  that  I  was  not 
a  worse  traitor  than  your  brother." 

He  turned  inquiring  eyes  on  me;  but  a  sick  man 
shrinks  from  puzzles,  and  he  had  no  strength  to 
question  me.  His  glance  fell  on  Flavia's  ring, 


284  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

which  I  wore.  I  thought  he  would  question  me 
about  it;  but  after  fingering  it  idly  he  let  his  head 
fall  on  his  pillow. 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  see  you  again,"  he 
said  faintly,  almost  listlessly. 

"  If  I  can  ever  serve  you  again,  sire,"  I  an- 
swered. 

His  eyelids  closed.  Fritz  came  with  the  doctor. 
I  kissed  the  king's  hand,  and  let  Fritz  lead  me 
away.  I  have  never  seen  the  king  since. 

Outside  Fritz  turned,  not  to  the  right,  back  to- 
ward the  drawbridge,  but  to  the  left,  and,  without 
speaking,  led  me  upstairs,  through  a  handsome  cor- 
ridor in  the  chateau. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  "  I  asked. 

Looking  away  from  me,  Fritz  answered: 

"  She  has  sent  for  you.  When  it  is  over 
come  back  to  the  bridge.  I'll  wait  for  you 
there." 

"  What  does  she  want? "  said  I,  breathing 
quickly. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Does  she  know  everything?  " 


IF  LOYE  W 'ERE  ALL!  285 

"  Yes,  everything." 

He  opened  a  door,  and  gently  pushing  me  in, 
closed  it  behind  me.  I  found  myself  in  a  drawing 
room,  small  and  richly  furnished.  At  first  I 
thought  that  I  was  alone,  for  the  light  that  came 
from  a  pair  of  shaded  candles  on  the  mantelpiece 
was  very  dim.  But  presently  I  discerned  a 
woman's  figure  standing  by  the  window.  I  knew 
it  was  the  princess,  and  I  walked  up  to  her,  fell 
on  one  knee,  and  carried  the  hand  that  hung  by 
her  side  to  my  lips.  She  neither  moved  nor  spoke. 
I  rose  to  my  feet,  and,  piercing  the  gloom  with  my 
eager  eyes,  saw  her  pale  face  and  the  gleam  of  her 
hair,  and  before  I  knew  I  spoke  softly: 

"Flavia!" 

She  trembled  a  little,  and  looked  round.  Then 
she  darted  to  me,  taking  hold  of  me. 

"  Don't  stand,  don't  stand!  No,  you  mustn't! 
You're  hurt !  Sit  down — here,  here !  " 

She  made  me  sit  on  a  sofa,  and  put  her  hand  on 
my  forehead. 

"  How  hot  your  head  is!  "  she  said,  sinking  on 
her  knees  by  me.  Then  she  laid  her  head  against 


286  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEN  DA. 

me,  and  I  heard  her  murmur:  "  My  darling,  how 
hot  your  head  is!  " 

Somehow  love  gives  even  to  a  dull  man  the 
knowledge  of  his  lover's  heart.  I  had  come  to 
humble  myself  and  pray  pardon  for  my  presump- 
tion; but  what  I  said  now  was: 

"  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul!  " 

For  what  troubled  and  shamed  her?  Not  her 
love  for  me,  but  the  fear  that  I  had  counterfeited 
the  lover  as  I  had  acted  the  king,  and  taken  her 
kisses  with  a  smothered  smile. 

"With  all  my  life  and  heart!"  said  I,  as  she 
clung  to  me.  "  Always,  from  the  first  moment  I 
saw  you  in  the  cathedral !  There  has  been  but  one 
woman  in  the  world  to  me — and  there  will  be  no 
other.  But  God  forgive  me  the  wrong  I've  done 
you!" 

"  They  made  you  do  it!  "  she  said  quickly;  and 
she  added,  raising  her  head  and  looking  in  my  eyes, 
"  It  might  have  made  no  difference  if  I'd  known  it. 
It  was  always  you,  never  the  king!  "  and  she  raised 
herself  and  kissed  me. 

"  I  meant  to  tell  you,"  said  I.     "  I  was  going  to 


'IT  WAS  ALWAYS  YOU,   NEVER  THE   KING  !  "—  Pa.V  3XG. 


IF  LOVE   WERE  ALL!  287 

on  the  night  of  the  ball  in  Strelsau,  when  Sapt 
interrupted  me.  After  that  I  couldn't — I  couldn't 
risk  losing  you  before — before — I  must!  My 
darling,  for  you  I  nearly  left  the  king  to 
die!" 

"  I  know,  I  know!  What  are  we  to  do  now, 
Rudolf?  " 

I  put  my  arm  round  her  and  held  her  up  while 
I  said: 

"  I  am  going  away  to-night." 

"  Ah,  no,  no!  "  she  cried.     "  Not  to-night!  " 

"  I  must  go  to-night,  before  more  people  have 
seen  me.  And  how  would  you  have  me  stay, 
sweetheart,  except " 

"  If  I  could  come  with  you!  "  she  whispered  very 
low. 

"  My  God!  "  said  I  roughly,  "  don't  talk  about 
that!  "  and  I  thrust  her  a  little  back  from  me. 

"  Why  not?  I  love  you.  You  are  as  good  a 
gentleman  as  the  king!  ' 

Then  I  was  false  to  all  that  I  should  have  held 
by.  For  I  caught  her  in  my  arms  and  prayed  her, 
in  words  that  I  will  not  write,  to  come  with  me, 


288  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

daring  all  Ruritania  to  take  her  from  me.  And  for 
a  while  she  listened,  with  wondering,  dazzled  eyes. 
But  as  her  eyes  looked  on  me  I  grew  ashamed,  and 
my  voice  died  away  in  broken  murmurs  and  stam- 
merings, and  at  last  I  was  silent. 

She  drew  herself  away  from  me  and  stood 
against  the  wall,  while  I  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa, 
trembling  in  every  limb,  knowing  what  I  had  done 
— loathing  it,  obstinate  not  to  undo  it.  So  we 
rested  a  long  time. 

"  I  am  mad!  "  I  said  sullenly. 

"  I  love  your  madness,  dear,"  she  answered. 

Her  face  was  away  from  me,  but  I  caught  the 
sparkle  of  a  tear  on  her  cheek.  I  clutched  the 
sofa  with  my  hand  and  held  myself  there. 

"  Is  love  the  only  thing?  "  she  asked,  in  low, 
sweet  tones  that  seemed  to  bring  a  calm  even  to  my 
wrung  heart.  "  If  love  were  the  only  thing  I  could 
follow  you — in  rags,  if  need  be — to  the  world's  end; 
for  you  hold  my  heart  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand! 
But  is  love  the  only  thing?  " 

I  made  her  no  answer.  It  gives  me  shame  now 
to  think  that  I  would  not  help  her. 


IF  LO^E  WERE  ALL!  289 

She  came  near  me  and  laid  her  hand  on  my 
shoulder.  I  put  my  hand  up  and  held  hers. 

"  I  know  people  write  and  talk  as  if  it  were. 
Perhaps,  for  some,  Fate  lets  it  be.  Ah,  if  I  were 
one  of  them !  But  if  love  had  been  the  only  thing 
you  would  have  let  the  king  die  in  his  cell." 

I  kissed  her  hand. 

"  Honor  binds  a  woman  too,  Rudolf.  My 
honor  lies  in  being  true  to  my  country  and  my 
House.  I  don't  know  why  God  has  let  me  love 
you;  but  I  know  that  I  must  stay!  " 

Still  I  said  nothing;  and  she,  pausing  a  while, 
then  went  on: 

'  Your  ring  will  always  be  on  my  ringer,  your 
heart  in  my  heart,  the  touch  of  your  lips  on  mine. 
But  you  must  go  and  I  must  stay.  Perhaps  I  must 
do  what  it  kills  me  to  think  of  doing." 

I  knew  what  she  meant,  and  a  shiver  ran  through 
me.  But  I  could  not  utterly  fail  beside  her.  I 
rose  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Do  you  what  you  will  or  what  you  must,"  I 
said.  "  I  think  God  shows  his  purposes  to  such  as 
you.  My  part  is  lighter;  for  your  ring  shall  be  on 


290  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZEND  A. 

my  finger  and  your  heart  in  mine,  and  no  touch 
save  of  your  lips  will  ever  be  on  mine.  So,  may 
God  comfort  you,  my  darling!  " 

There  struck  on  our  ears  the  sound  of  singing. 
The  priests  in  the  chapel  were  singing  masses  for 
the  souls  of  those  who  lay  dead.  They  seemed  to 
chant  a  requiem  over  our  buried  joy,  to  pray  for- 
giveness for  our  love  that  would  not  die.  The 
soft,  sweet,  pitiful  music  rose  and  fell  as  we  stood 
opposite  one  another,  her  hands  in  mine. 

"  My  queen  and  my  beauty!  "  said  I. 

"  My  lover  and  true  knight!  "  she  said.  "  Per- 
haps we  shall  never  see  one  another  again.  Kiss 
me,  my  dear,  and  go!  " 

I  kissed  her  as  she  bade  me;  but  at  the  last  she 
clung  to  me,  whispering  nothing  but  my  name, 
and  that  over  and  over  again — and  again — and 
again;  and  then  I  left  her. 

Rapidly  I  walked  down  to  the  bridge.  Sapt  and 
Fritz  were  waiting  for  me.  Under  their  directions 
I  changed  my  dress,  and  muffling  my  face,  as  I  had 
done  more  than  once  before,  I  mounted  with  them 
at  the  door  of  the  castle,  and  we  three  rode  through 


IF  LOVE  WERE  ALL!  *9* 

the  night  and  on  to  the  breaking  of  day,  and  found 
ourselves  at  a  little  roadside  station  just  over  the 
border  of  Ruritania.  The  train  was  not  quite  due, 
and  I  walked  with  them  in  a  meadow  by  a  little 
brook  while  we  waited  for  it.  They  promised  to 
send  me  all  news;  they  overwhelmed  me  with  kind- 
ness— even  old  Sapt  was  touched  to  gentleness, 
while  Fritz  was  half  unmanned.  I  listened  in  a 
kind  of  dream  to  all  they  said.  "  Rudolf!  Ru- 
dolf! Rudolf!  "  still  rang  in  my  ears — a  burden  of 
sorrow  and  of  love.  At  last  they  saw  that  I  could 
not  heed  them,  and  we  walked  up  and  down  in 
silence,  till  Fritz  touched  me  on  the  arm,  and  I 
saw,  a  mile  or  more  away,  the  blue  smoke  of  the 
train.  Then  I  held  out  a  hand  to  each  of  them. 

"  We  are  all  but  half  men  this  morning,"  said  I, 
smiling.  "  But  we  have  been  men,  eh,  Sapt  and 
Fritz,  old  friends?  We  have  run  a  good  course 
between  us." 

"  We  have  defeated  traitors  and  set  the  king  firm 
on  his  throne,"  said  Sapt. 

Then  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim  suddenly,  before  I 
could  discern  his  purpose  or  stay  him,  uncovered 


292  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

his  head  and  bent  as  he  used  to  do,  and  kissed  my 
hand;  and  as  I  snatched  it  away  he  said,  trying  to 
laugh : 

"  Heaven  doesn't  always  make  the  right  men 
kings!" 

Old  Sapt  twisted  his  mouth  as  he  wrung  my 
hand. 

'  The  devil  has  his  share  in  most  things,"  said 
he. 

The  people  at  the  station  looked  curiously  at  the 
tall  man  with  the  muffled  face,  but  we  took  no 
notice  of  their  glances.  I  stood  with  my  two 
friends,  and  waited  till  the  train  came  up  to  us. 
Then  we  shook  hands  again,  saying  nothing;  and 
both  this  time — and,  indeed,  from  old  Sapt  it 
seemed  strange — bared  their  heads,  and  so  stood 
still  till  the  train  bore  me  away  from  their  sight. 
So  that  it  was  thought  some  great  man  traveled 
privately  for  his  pleasure  from  the  little  station  that 
morning;  whereas,  in  truth,  it  was  only  I,  Rudolf 
Rassendyll,  an  English  gentleman,  a  cadet  of  a 
good  house,  but  a  man  of  no  wealth  nor  position, 
nor  of  much  rank.  They  would  have  been  disap- 


IF  LOVE   WERE  ALL!  293 

pointed  to  know  that.  Yet,  had  they  known  all, 
they  would  have  looked  more  curiously  still.  For, 
be  I  what  I  might  now,  I  had  been  for  three  months 
a  king;  which,  if  not  a  thing  to  be  proud  of,  is,  at 
least,  an  experience  to  have  undergone.  Doubt- 
less I  should  have  thought  more  of  it  had  there  not 
echoed  through  the  air,  from  the  towers  of  Zenda 
that  we  were  leaving  far  away,  into  my  ears  and 
into  my  heart  the  cry  of  a  woman's  love — "  Rudolf! 
Rudolf!  Rudolf!" 

Hark!     I  hear  it  now! 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

PRESENT,    PAST AND    FUTURE? 

THE  details  of  my  return  home  can  have  but 
little  interest.  I  went  straight  to  the  Tyrol  and 
spent  a  quiet  fortnight — mostly  on  my  back,  for  a 
severe  chill  developed  itself;  and  I  was  also  the  vic- 
tim of  a  nervous  reaction,  which  made  me  weak  as 
a  baby.  As  soon  as  I  had  reached  my  quarters  I 
sent  an  apparently  careless  postcard  to  my  brother, 
announcing  my  good  health  and  prospective  re- 
turn. That  would  serve  to  satisfy  the  inquiries  as 
to  my  whereabouts,  which  were  probably  still  vex- 
ing the  prefect  of  the  police  of  Strelsau.  I  let  my 
mustache  and  imperial  grow  again;  and  as  hair 
comes  quickly  on  my  face,  they  were  respectable, 
though  not  luxuriant,  by  the  time  that  I  landed 
myself  in  Paris  and  called  on  my  friend  George 
Featherly.  My  interview  with  him  was  chiefly 
remarkable  for  the  number  of  unwilling  but  neces- 


294 


PRESENT,  PAST— AND  FUTURE?  295 

sary  falsehoods  that  I  told  and  I  rallied  him  un- 
mercifully when  he  told  me  that  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  that  I  had  gone  in  the  track  of  Mme.  de 
Mauban  to  Strelsau.  The  lady,  it  appeared,  was 
back  in  Paris,  but  was  living  in  great  seclusion — a 
fact  for  which  gossip  found  no  difficulty  in  account- 
ing. Did  not  all  the  world  know  of  the  treachery 
and  death  of  Duke  Michael?  Nevertheless  George 
bade  Bertram  Bertrand  be  of  good  cheer,  "  for," 
said  he  flippantly,  "  a  live  poet  is  better  than  a  dead 
duke."  Then  he  turned  on  me  and  asked: 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  your  mus- 
tache?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  I  answered,  assuming  a  sly 
air,  "  a  man  now  and  then  has  reasons  for  wishing 
to  alter  his  appearance.  But  it's  coming  on  very 
well  again." 

"  What?  Then  I  wasn't  so  far  out!  If  not  the 
fair  Antoinette,  there  was  a  charmer." 

"  There  is  always  a  charmer,"  said  I  senten- 
tiously. 

But  George  would  not  be  satisfied  till  he  had 
wormed  out  of  me  (he  took  much  pride  in  his  in- 


296  THE  PRISONER   OF  ZENDA. 

genuity)  an  absolutely  imaginary  love  affair,  at- 
tended with  the  proper  soupgon  of  scandal,  which 
had  kept  me  all  this  time  in  the  peaceful  regions  of 
the  Tyrol.  In  return  for  this  narrative  George  re- 
galed me  with  a  great  deal  of  what  he  called  "  in- 
side information  "  (known  only  to  diplomatists)  as 
to  the  true  course  of  events  in  Ruritania,  the  plots 
and  counterplots.  In  his  opinion,  he  told  me,  with 
a  significant  nod,  there  was  more  to  be  said  for 
Black  Michael  than  the  public  supposed;  and  he 
hinted  at  a  well-founded  suspicion  that  the  mys- 
terious prisoner  of  Zenda,  concerning  whom  a 
good  many  paragraphs  had  appeared,  was  not  a 
man  at  all,  but  (here  I  had  some  ado  not  to  smile) 
a  woman  disguised  as  a  man;  and  that  strife  be- 
tween the  king  and  his  brother  for  this  imaginary 
lady's  favor  was  at  the  bottom  of  their  quarrel. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  Mme.  de  Mauban  herself,"  I 
suggested. 

"No!"  said  George  decisively.  "Antoinette 
de  Mauban  was  jealous  of  her,  and  betrayed  the 
duke  to  the  king  for  that  reason.  And,  to  confirm 
what  I  say,  it's  well  known  that  the  Princess  Flavia 


PRESENT,  PAST— AND  FUTURE?  297 

is  now  extremely  cold  to  the  king,  after  having 
been  most  affectionate." 

At  this  point  I  changed  the  subject,  and  escaped 
from  George's  "  inspired  "  delusions.  But  if  diplo- 
matists never  know  anything  more  than  they  had 
succeeded  in  finding  out  in  this  instance,  they  ap- 
pear to  me  to  be  somewhat  expensive  luxuries. 

While  in  Paris  I  wrote  to  Antoinette,  though 
I  did  not  venture  to  call  upon  her.  I  received  in 
return  a  very  affecting  letter,  in  which  she  assured 
me  that  the  king's  generosity  and  kindness,  no  less 
than  her  regard  for  me,  bound  her  conscience  to 
absolute  secrecy.  She  expressed  the  intention  of 
settling  in  the  country,  and  withdrawing  herself 
entirely  from  society.  Whether  she  carried  out 
her  designs  I  have  never  heard;  but  as  I  have  not 
met  her,  or  heard  news  of  her  up  to  this  time,  it  is 
probable  that  she  did.  There  is  no  doubt  that  she 
was  deeply  attached  to  the  Duke  of  Strelsau;  and 
her  conduct  at  the  time  of  his  death  proved  that  no 
knowledge  of  the  man's  real  character  was  enough 
to  root  her  regard  for  him  out  of  her  heart. 

I  had  one  more  battle  left  to  fight — a  battle  that 


298  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/I. 

would,  I  knew,  be  severe,  and  was  bound  to  end  in 
my  complete  defeat.  Was  I  not  back  from  the 
Tyrol,  without  having  made  any  study  of  its  in- 
habitants, institutions,  scenery,  fauna,  flora,  or 
other  features?  Had  I  not  simply  wasted  my  time 
in  my  usual  frivolous,  good-for-nothing  way. 
That  was  the  aspect  of  the  matter  which,  I  was 
obliged  to  admit,  would  present  itself  to  my  sister- 
in-law;  and  against  a  verdict  based  on  such  evi- 
dence I  had  really  no  defense  to  offer.  It  may  be 
supposed,  then,  that  I  presented  myself  in  Park 
Lane  in  a  shamefaced,  sheepish  fashion.  On  the 
whole,  my  reception  was  not  so  alarming  as  I  had 
feared.  It  turned  out  that  I  had  done,  not  what 
Rose  wished,  but — the  next  best  thing — what  she 
prophesied.  She  had  declared  that  I  should  make 
no  notes,  record  no  observations,  gather  no  ma- 
terials. My  brother,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been 
weak  enough  to  maintain  that  a  really  serious  re- 
solve had  at  length  animated  me. 

When  I  returned  empty-handed  Rose  was  so 
occupied  in  triumphing  over  Burlesdon  that  she 
let  me  down  quite  easily,  devoting  the  greater  part 


PRESENT,  PAST-AMD  FUTURE?  299 

of  her  reproaches  to  my  failure  to  advertise  my 
friends  of  my  whereabouts. 

"  We've  wasted  a  lot  of  time  trying  to  find  you," 
she  said. 

"  I  know  you  have,"  said  I.  "  Half  our  ambas- 
sadors have  led  weary  lives  on  my  account. 
George  Featherly  told  me  so.  But  why  should 
you  have  been  anxious?  I  can  take  care  of 
myself." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  that,"  she  cried  scornfully;  "  but 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  Sir  Jacob  Borrodaile. 
You  know  he's  got  an  embassy — at  least,  he  will 
have  in  a  month — and  he  wrote  to  say  he  hoped 
you  would  go  with  him." 

"  Where's  he  going  to?  " 

"  He's  going  to  succeed  Lord  Topham  at  Strel- 
sau,"  said  she.  "  You  couldn't  have  a  nicer  place, 
short  of  Paris." 

"Strelsau!  H'm! "  said  I,  glancing  at  my 
brother. 

"  Oh,  that  doesn't  matter!  "  exclaimed  Rose  im- 
patiently. "  Now  you  will  go,  won't  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  care  about  it!  " 


300  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

"  Oh,  you're  too  exasperating!  " 

"  And  I  don't  think  I  can  go  to  Strelsau.  My 
dear  Rose,  would  it  be  suitable?  " 

"  Oh,  nobody  remembers  that  horrid  old  story 
now." 

Upon  this  I  took  out  of  my  pocket  a  portrait  of 
the  King  of  Ruritania.  It  had  been  taken  a  month 
or  two  before  he  ascended  the  throne,  and  he 
wore  a  full  beard.  Nevertheless  she  could  not 
miss  my  point  when  I  said,  putting  it  into  her 
hands: 

"  In  case  you've  not  seen  or  not  noticed  a  pic- 
ture of  Rudolf  V.,  there  he  is.  Don't  you  think 
they  might  recall  the  story  if  I  appeared  at  the 
court  of  Ruritania?  " 

My  sister-in-law  looked  at  the  portrait,  and  then 
at  me. 

"  Good  gracious!  "  she  said,  and  flung  the  pho- 
tograph down  on  the  table. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Bob?  "  I  asked. 

Burlesdon  got  up,  went  to  a  corner  of  the  room, 
and  searched  in  a  heap  of  newspapers.  Presently 
he  came  back  with  a  copy  of  the  Illustrated  London 


PRESENT,  PAST— AMD  FUTURE?  3°* 

News.  Opening  the  paper,  he  displayed  a  double- 
page  engraving  of  the  Coronation  of  Rudolf  V.  at 
Strelsau.  The  photograph  and  the  picture  he  laid 
side  by  side.  I  sat  at  the  table  fronting  them;  and 
as  I  looked  I  grew  absorbed.  My  eye  traveled 
from  my  own  portrait  to  Sapt,  to  Strakencz,  to  the 
rich  robes  of  the  cardinal,  to  Black  Michael's  face, 
to  the  stately  figure  of  the  princess  by  his  side. 
Long  I  looked  and  eagerly.  I  was  roused  by  my 
brother's  hand  on  my  shoulder.  He  was  gazing 
down  at  me  with  a  puzzled  expression. 

"  It's  a  remarkable  likeness,  you  see,"  said  I. 
"  I  really  think  I  had  better  not  to  go  to  Ruri- 
tania." 

Rose,  though  half  convinced,  would  not  abandon 
her  position. 

"  It's  just  an  excuse,"  she  said  pettishly.  "  You 
don't  want  to  do  anything.  Why,  you  might  be- 
come an  ambassador!  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  want  to  be  an  ambassador," 
said  I. 

"  It's  more  than  you  ever  will  be,"  she  retorted. 

That  is  very  likely  true,  but  it  is  not  more  that  I 


3°*  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZEND/I. 

have  been.  The  idea  of  being  an  ambassador 
could  scarcely  dazzle  me.  I  had  been  a  king! 

So  pretty  Rose  left  us  in  dudgeon;  and  Burles- 
don,  lighting  a  cigarette,  looked  at  me  still  with 
that  curious  gaze. 

"  That  picture  in  the  paper "  he  said. 

"  Well,  what  of  it?  It  shows  that  the  king  of 
Ruritania  and  your  humble  servant  are  as  like  as 
two  peas." 

My  brother  shook  his  head. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  said.  "  But  I  should  know 
you  from  the  man  in  the  photograph." 

"  And  not  from  the  picture  in  the  paper?  " 

"  I  should  know  the  photograph  from  the  pic- 
ture: the  picture's  very  like  the  photograph, 
but " 

"Well?" 

"  It's  more  like  you,"  said  my  brother. 

My  brother  is  a  good  man  and  true — so  that,  for 
all  that  he  is  a  married  man  and  mighty  fond  of  his 
wife,  he  should  know  any  secret  of  mine.  But 
this  secret  was  not  mine,  and  I  could  not  tell  it 
to  him. 


PRESENT,  PAST— AND  FUTURE?  3°3 

"  I  don't  think  it's  so  much  like  me  as  the  photo- 
graph," said  I  boldly.  "  But  anyhow,  Bob,  I 
won't  go  to  Strelsau." 

"  No,  don't  go  to  Strelsau,  Rudolf,"  said  he. 

And  whether  he  suspects  anything,  or  has  a  glim- 
mer of  the  truth,  I  do  not  know.  If  he  has  he  keeps 
it  to  himself,  and  he  and  I  never  refer  to  it. 
And  we  let  Sir  Jacob  Borrodaile  find  another 
attache. 

Since  all  these  events  whose  history  I  have  set 
down  happened  I  have  lived  a  very  quiet  life  at  a 
small  house  \vhich  I  have  taken  in  the  country. 
The  ordinary  ambitions  and  aims  of  men  in  my  po- 
sition seem  to  me  dull  and  unattractive.  I  have 
little  fancy  for  the  whirl  of  society,  and  none  for  the 
jostle  of  politics.  Lady  Burlesdon  utterly  despairs 
of  me;  my  neighbors  think  me  an  indolent,  dreamy, 
unsociable  fellow.  Yet  I  am  a  young  man;  and 
sometimes  I  have  a  fancy — the  superstitious  would 
call  it  a  presentiment — that  my  part  in  life  is  not 
yet  altogether  played;  that,  somehow  and  some 
day,  I  shall  mix  again  in  great  affairs,  I  shall  again 
spin  policies  in  a  busy  brain,  match  my  wits  against 


3°4  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

my  enemies',  brace  my  muscle  to  fight  a  good  fight 
and  strike  stout  blows.  Such  is  the  tissue  of  my 
thoughts  as,  with  gun  or  rod  in  hand,  I  wander 
through  the  woods  or  by  the  side  of  the  stream. 
Whether  the  fancy  will  be  fulfilled  I  cannot  tell — 
still  less  whether  the  scene  that,  led  by  memory,  I 
lay  for  my  new  exploits  will  be  the  true  one — for 
I  love  to  see  myself  once  again  in  the  crowded 
streets  of  Strelsau,  or  beneath  the  frowning  keep  of 
the  castle  of  Zenda. 

Thus  led,  my  broodings  leave  the  future,  and 
turn  back  on  the  past.  Shapes  rise  before  me  in 
long  array — the  wild  first  revel  with  the  king,  the 
rush  with  my  brave  tea  table,  the  night  in  the  moat, 
the  pursuit  in  the  forest:  my  friends  and  my  foes, 
the  people  who  learned  to  love  and  honor  me,  the 
desperate  men  who  tried  to  kill  me.  And,  from 
amid  these  last,  comes  one  who  alone  of  all  of  them 
yet  moves  on  earth,  though  where  I  know  not,  yet 
plans  (as  I  do  not  doubt)  wickedness,  yet  turns 
women's  hearts  to  softness  and  men's  to  fear  and 
hate.  Where  is  young  Rupert  of  Hentzau — the 
boy  who  came  so  nigh  to  beating  me?  When  his 


PRESENT,   PAST— AND  FUTURE?  305 

name  comes  into  my  head  I  feel  my  hand  grip  and 
the  blood  move  quicker  through  my  veins;  and  the 
hint  of  Fate — the  presentiment — seems  to  grow 
stronger  and  more  definite,  and  to  whisper  insist- 
ently in  my  ear  that  I  have  yet  a  hand  to  play  with 
young  Rupert;  therefore  I  exercise  myself  in  arms, 
and  seek  to  put  off  the  day  when  the  vigor  of  youth 
must  leave  me. 

One  break  comes  every  year  in  my  quiet  life. 
Then  I  go  to  Dresden,  and  there  I  am  met  by  my 
dear  friend  and  companion  Fritz  von  Tarlenheim. 
Last  time  his  pretty  wife  Helga  came,  and  a  lusty 
crowing  baby  with  her.  And  for  a  week  Fritz  and 
I  are  together,  and  I  hear  all  of  what  falls  out  in 
Strelsau;  and  in  the  evenings,  as  wre  walk  and 
smoke  together,  we  talk  of  Sapt,  and  of  the  king, 
and  often  of  young  Rupert;  and,  as  the  hours  grow 
small,  at  last  we  speak  of  Flavia.  For  every  year 
Fritz  carries  with  him  to  Dresden  a  little  box;  in  it 
lies  a  red  rose,  and  round  the  stalk  of  the  rose  is  a 
slip  of  paper  with  the  words  written:  "  Rudolf — 
Flavia — always."  And  the  like  I  send  back  by 
him,  That  message,  and  the  wearing  of  the  rings, 


306  THE  PRISONER  OF  ZENDA. 

are  all  that  now  bind  me  and  the  Queen  of  Ruri- 
tania.  For — nobler,  as  I  told  her,  for  the  act — she 
had  followed  where  her  duty  to  her  country  and 
her  House  led  her,  and  is  the  wife  of  the  king,  unit- 
ing his  subjects  to  him  by  the  love  they  bear  to  her, 
giving  peace  and  quiet  days  to  thousands  by  her 
self-sacrifice.  There  are  moments  when  I  dare  not 
think  of  it,  but  there  are  others  when  I  rise  in  spirit 
to  where  she  ever  dwells;  then  I  can  thank  God  that 
I  love  the  noblest  lady  in  the  world,  the  most  gra- 
cious and  beautiful,  and  that  there  was  nothing  in 
my  love  that  made  her  fall  short  in  her  high 
duty. 

Shall  I  see  her  face  again — the  pale  face  and  the 
glorious  hair?  Of  that  I  know  nothing;  Fate  has 
no  hint,  my  heart  no  presentiment.  I  do  not  know. 
In  this  world,  perhaps — nay,  it  is  likely — never. 
And  can  it  be  that  somewhere,  in  a  manner  whereof 
our  flesh-bound  minds  have  no  apprehension,  she 
and  I  will  be  together  again,  with  nothing  to  come 
between  us,  nothing  to  forbid  our  love?  That  I 
know  not,  nor  wiser  heads  than  mine.  But  if  it 
be  never — if  I  can  never  hold  sweet  converse  again 


PRESENT,  PAST— AMD  FUTURE)  3°7 

with  her,  or  look  upon  her  face,  or  know  from  her 
her  love,  why,  then,  this  side  the  grave,  I  will  live  as 
becomes  the  man  whom  she  loves;  and  for  the  other 
side  I  must  pray  a  dreamless  sleep. 


THE    END. 


Thirteenth  Impression  of  a  Remarkable  New  Romance. 


By  E.  L.  VOYNICH.     i2tno,  cloth.     $1.25. 

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being  and  not  like  an  operatic  bandit.  .  .  It  is  a  thrilling 
book  and  absolutely  sober.  .  .  *  The  Gadfly  '  is  an  original 
and  impressive  being  ...  a  story  to  remember." 

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Fourth  Impression  of  a  charming  book. 

Sfcetcbee  in  3Lavenfcert 

anfc  (Breen. 


By  JEROME  K.  JEROME,  author  of  Idle  Thoughts 
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both  wit  and  philosophy.  .  .  Several  of  the  tales  have  a 
strong  emotional  interest  ;  they  are_  all  original  and_well  told 
.  .  all  that  the  volume  contains  is  thoroughly  enjoyable." 
—  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Impressive  originality,  dramatic  force,  subtle,  infectious 
humor."  —  Buffalo  Commercial. 

A  'brilliant  book  on  Modern  Italy. 

ZIbe  "(Italians  of  3cvZ>at>. 

By  RENE  BAZ'N.  Translated  by  WILLIAM 
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esting. There  is  not  a  dull  page  in  the  whole  book." 

The  Baton  Transcript:  "A  most  readable  book,  not  only 
because  of  its  first-hand  information,  .  .  .  but  also  because 
of  its  fair,  free,  and  lucid  manner  of  relating  what  the  author 
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HENRY  HOLT  & 


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FORD'S  THE  FEDERALIST 

The  well-known  collection  of  papers  on  the  Constitution  by 
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fect. .  .  .  This  is  an  invaluable  edition." 

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precise  reference,  Mr.  Ford's  edition,  it  seems  to  us,  must  of  neces- 
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I2IHO.      $1.25. 

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its  own  strong,  peculiar  vein  of  interest  and  reality.  .  .  .  Each  story 
is  in  itself  strikingly  complete.  .  .  .  The  writer  of  these  short  stories 
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The  Nation  :  "  A  homespun  heroine  in  whose  possibility  one  is 
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pleasure." 

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New  York  Commercial  Advertiser  ;  "Strengthens  Miss  Elliott's 
reputation  as  a  novelist.  .  .  .  Each  character  is  sustained  and  vigor- 
ous." 

Independent:  "Decidedly  above  the  common.  Its  descriptive 
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(a) 


s8th  Impression  of  a  New   York  Novel 

THE  HON.  PETER  STIRLING 

AND    WHAT  PEOPLE   THOUGHT  OF  HIM 

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imagined  and  logically  drawn  that  it  satisfies  the  demand  for  the  appear- 
ance of  truth  in  art.  .  .  .  Telling  scenes  and  incidents  and  descriptions  of 


of  dramatic  possibilities  Mr.  Ford  is  discreet  and  natural,  and  without 
giving  Stirling  a  heroic  pose,  manages  to  win  for  him  very  hearty  sym- 
pathy and  belief.  Stirling's  private  and  domestic  story  is  well  knit  with 
that  of  his  public  adventures.  ...  A  very  good  novel." 

The  Atlantic  Monthly  :  "  Commands  our  very  sincere  respect;  .  .  . 
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crisis  of  the  story.  .  .  .  The  tone  and  manner  of  the  book  are  noble.  .  .  . 
A  timely,  manly,  thoroughbred,  and  eminently  suggestive  book." 

The  Review  of  Reviews  .•  "His  relations  with  women  were  of  uncon- 
ventional sincerity  and  depth.  .  .  .  Worth  reading  on  several  accounts." 

The  Dial:  "  One  of  the  strongest  and  most  vital  characters  that  have 
appeared  in  our  fiction.  ...  A  very  charming  love  story.  To  discern  the 
soul  of  good  in  so  evil  a  thing  as  municipal  politics  calls  for  sympathies 
that  are  not  often  united  with  a  sane  ethical  outlook;  but  Peter  Stirling  is 
possessed  of  the  one  without  losing  his  sense  of  the  other,  and  it  is  this 
combination  of  qualities  that  make  him  so  impressive  and  admirable  a 
figure.  .  .  .  Both  a  readable  and  an  ethically  helpful  book." 

The  New  York  Tribune  :  "  A  portrait  which  is  both  alive  and  easily 
recognizable." 

The  New  York  Times:  "Mr.  Ford's  able  political  novel." 

The  Literary  World  ':  "  A  fine,  tender  love  story.  .  .  .  A  very  unusual, 
but,  let  us  believe,  a  possible  character.  .  .  .  Peter  Stirling  is  a  man's 
hero.  .  .  .  Very  readable  and  enjoyable." 

The  Independent:  "Full  of  life.  The  interest  never  flags.  ...  It  is 
long  since  we  have  read  a  better  novel  or  one  more  thoroughly  and  natu- 
rally American." 

The  Boston  Advertiser:  "  Sure  to  excite  attention  and  win  popularity." 

The  Brooklyn  Eagle  :  "  A  love  and  labor  story;  .  .  .  terribly  pictur- 
esque. .  .  .  Abundance  of  humor." 

The  Baltimore  Sjtn  :  "The  team  of  politics  and  love  drive  very  well 
together.  .  .  .  Mr.  Ford  has  created  a  very  effective  character  under  very 
difficult  circumstances." 


HENRY  HOLT  &  CO., 


29 


A   BOOK  FOR  OLD  AND   YOUNG 

LUCAS'S  A  BOOK  OF  VERSES  FOR  CHILDREN 

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The  Critic  :    "  We  know  of  no  other  anthology  for  children  so 
complete  and  well  arranged." 
Chicago  Post:  "  Will  interest  the  old  hardly  less  than  the  young." 

12th  IMPRESSION  Of  A   "POWERFUL  NOVEL" 

VOYNICH'S  THE  GADFLY 

izinu.     $1.25. 

New  York  Tribune :  "  It  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  one  of  the 
most  powerful  novels  of  the  decade.  .  .  .  It  is  a  thrilling  book  and 
absolutely  sober." 

Uth  IMPRESSION  OF  A    CHARMING  BOOK 

JEROME'S    SKETCHES   IN   LAVENDER,   BLUE, 

AND     GREEN      W  ith  40  illustrations.    12100.    $1.25. 

Boston  Transcript:  "  A  humorist  whose  humor  is  of  the  exquisitely 
pleasing  kind  that  delights  by  its  delicate  exaggeration  ot  the  common 
faults  and  foibles  of  humanjty,  without  offending  by  descending  to 
mere  burlesque;  .  .  .  there  is  in  his  work  much  of  both  wit  and  phi. 
losophy.  .  .  .  Several  of  the  tales  have  a  strong  emotional  interest; 
they  are  all  original  and  well  told." 

List  of  Mr,  Jerome  K.  Jerome's  books  on  application. 
6th  IMPRESSION  OF  A    WORK  ON  CUBA    TO-DA  Y 

ROWAN  &  RAMSAY'S  ISLAND  OF   CUBA 

With  maps,  points  of  international  law,  etc.    i6mo.    $1.25. 
Boston  Transcript :  "  So  graphic,  at  times  picturesque,  that  read* 
ing  for  information  is  an  intellectual  delight." 

98th   IMPRESSION  OF  THE  AMERICAN  NOVEL 

FORD'S  THE  HON.   PETER  STIRLING 

izmo.     $1.50. 

l.-th  IMPRESSION  OF  A   NOVEL   OF  WASHINGTON  LIFE 
DEMOCRACY      i6mo.    Paper  covers,  3oc. 

The  Nation :  "  It  presents  with  almost  startling  vividness  and 
force  the  gravest  truths  that  can  occupy  the  attention  of  patriotic 
men  and  women." 

A  NEW  FOUR-VOLUME  EDITION  OF 

TAINE'S  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

With  28  portraits.    Gilt  tops.     In  box.     $7.50. 
The  Dial :  "  The  most  satisfactory  edition  for  library  use  that  we 
have  in  English." 

KERNER'S  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  PLANTS 

With  over  2000  illustrations  (16  of  them  in  colors). 
4  parts.    8vo.     Cloth,  $15.00,  net:  carriage  $1.00. 
New  York  Times:  "A  magnificent  work;  .  .  .  superb  illustrations.1' 
The  Nation  :  "  The  lucidity  of  style  is  remarkable." 
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I 


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